So Close, Yet So Far Away
by Awen Sofer
Summary: Georgie had just accepted the most unusual job working for a most unusual man. Near is socially inept and emotionally constrained. She is free spirited and emotionally unfettered. She is just what he needs. He might be exactly what she wants - even though she doesn't know it yet.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This story was written as a request for ronlight4. I totally agree with her that Near was a character who was never quite fully developed and did not receive the attention he deserved. I definitely hope you like it ronlight4. Also a big thank you to my beta xfang-girlx. I'm so thrilled she's back in action as my beta to help me root out spelling errors and grammar mistakes. So here we go...I hope you all like it too. Thank you for reading!

* * *

Nate River also known as Near or the third L, the ultimate detective. An orphan and a child genius raised at Wammy's House in Winchester, England, an orphanage specifically for the training of gifted children. Head of the SPK, Special Provision for Kira, a group created to work with agents of the FBI and CIA jointly to catch the Japanese serial killer known as Kira. The last Kira case had occurred seven years ago. Near was currently twenty-eight years old, and Kira was a nightmare of the past rendering the SPK obsolete.

The directors of both the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the Central Intelligence Agency had discussed at length the prospect of disbanding the SPK because such a specific investigations group was no longer needed. Nate River would continue his employment with the CIA since it took more of a global approach to crime. He would work as a special consultant, especially for difficult cases that required his unique skill set and exceptional abilities as a detective. They would keep him around just in case his specific area of expertise with Kira ever be needed again. Heaven forbid.

Anthony Rester (Carter) would be promoted to Assistant Director of the FBI. Stephen Gevanni (Loud) would be given a position as a leader of surveillance and information retrieval. Halle Lidner (Bullook) would become a new team leader in covert operations. They were informed of the changes, of the dissolution of the SPK, before Near. They requested that they be the ones to tell Near about the changes and to assist him with the transition. The trio had gone to a nearby diner to discuss how to proceed after receiving the shocking news.

"I can't believe this is happening," Halle mumbled, staring into her coffee cup.

"We all knew it would not go on forever," Stephen said, taking a sip of his iced tea. "But I don't think any of us considered how it would end or what life would be like afterward."

"We've been with Near for over ten years. Suddenly, it's time for all of us to move on. Although we will all still be working for the agency, it will not be the same. How is he going to function without us?" Anthony murmured, stirring his coffee. He had been stirring the coffee since they sat down fifteen minutes ago. The beverage had to be cold and undrinkable by now.

"I don't think Near is the only one who is going to have issues transitioning into life beyond the SPK," Halle sighed, placing her hand over Anthony's to stop the incessant clinking. "I think we're as attached to him as he is to us."

"We've become like a family," added Stephen, swirling the ice cubes in his glass.

"So what do we do? There's no way we can stop this. There's no changing the directors minds. I tried," Anthony said, taking a sip of the chilled coffee. He grimaced in disgust, signaling the server for another cup.

All three people remained quiet until after the coffee was switched out and the server had walked away.

"Any ideas?" Anthony prompted again, sipping the steaming hot coffee.

"We could hire a handler," suggested Stephen. "I don't think it should be an agent though. A civilian preferably."

"Do you think a civilian with no training would be a good idea? Poor thing," Halle sighed sadly. "Near hasn't progressed a damn bit on the social scale and has yet to develop any real interpersonal skills. Whoever we hire will be a stranger to him. Someone completely unknown to him. How will we find someone to trust to take care of him? That Near will trust? We are the only ones he trusts."

"He learned to trust us, and he can learn to trust someone new. It's partly our fault that he hasn't developed the necessary life skills to deal with other people or live completely independent without assistance. He can still call us if he needs us. Just like he always has." Anthony picked his coffee cup again but did not take a drink. "We really did him a great disservice on that."

"Well, the directors did say it would be a transition, meaning they expect it to take a while," Stephen reminded them.

"So?" Halle challenged him, waiting for him to explain further.

"I suppose we better begin the interviews and find that new person. We can be there until he grows accustomed to that person. This way the change will be easier and less traumatizing for all of us," he reasoned soundly.

"Okay then. I suppose we'll place an ad and begin interviews," Anthony said. "Near will make the final choice himself."

~...~

Georgie Lathrop sat in the unforgiving and incredibly uncomfortable metal chair wondering what was going on here. The room was crowded with people, both men and women. Most of the people were dressed in business suits or business casual outfits and carried briefcases or portfolios. A few individuals had dressed in dark jeans that looked as if they had been pressed and expensive looking polo shirts. They held resumes or folders in their hands. Even the most casually dressed individual looked more put together than her. She felt inappropriately dressed wearing a flowing Bohemian skirt that started out a light blue color at her waist and darkened with graduated coloring to a rich shade of royal blue around her ankles. She was wearing a plain white form fitting top with a thick cuff that encircled her shoulders. Her simple flat thong sandals had tiny straps threaded with colorful beads that wrapped around her ankles. Her almond brown hair hung down her back in a thick braid. Her eyes and skin shared the same shade of warm, toasty brown as her hair. When she moved her hand to self-consciously grasp her other arm in a semblance of giving herself a reassuring hug, the dozens of thin gold bangle bracelets on her arm jingled. The people around her glared at her with accusing eyes and lips thinned into straight lines to show their irritation. With an apologetic shrug of her shoulders, she looked away to avoid their glowers.

This was not what she had expected. There was something bizarre about this whole situation. The job agency had told her that she would be interviewing for the position of a live in caregiver. She assumed that was merely a fancy phrase for a nanny. Not many details had been given to her about the job beyond the brief description except for a place and a time for the interview. The address took her to a rented space in a strip mall located between a nail salon and a sandwich shop. The time had been nine AM. According to the plain round cheap looking clock on the wall the time was now half past eleven. Two and half hours of waiting. She wondered how long some of the others had been waiting because they had been here before she arrived. Only four more people had arrived after her, all at exactly fifteen minute intervals. It was getting close to lunch. People were becoming anxious and annoyed, both problems being exacerbated by hunger. Not a single person had been called for an interview. There was no receptionist or secretary to complain to about the wait. No one had bothered to come out to give an explanation for the delay. The room had grown hot and stuffy as well adding to the tension.

One man wearing a three piece business suit and expensive brown Italian loafers stood up to pace the room. A woman wearing a pencil thin black skirt and long sleeved white shirt, unbuttoned the top few buttons of her shirt and rolled up her sleeves. A young man wearing jeans and a casual button down shirt stood up and stalked out of the place, hitting the door with such force it was a miracle the glass did not break. Soon, other people began to leave. A woman in her early thirties began to fan herself with the orange folder she held that probably contained a resume of several pages.

Georgie apprehensively glanced around at the other people before reaching into her purse for a bottle of water. She twisted off the lid and took a furtive sip before slipping it back into her large straw handbag.

"Hey, you got another one of those?" an overweight man in a dress shirt and tie asked. He was sweating profusely. His shirt was soaked with sweat in wide circles under his armpits.

"No, I don't. Sorry," she apologized. She retrieved the bottle from which she had taken a sip, holding it out to him. "If you don't mind drinking after me, you can have this."

"Thanks," he responded appreciatively, taking the bottle.

"Fuck this," a young man growled before heading to the door.

"This is ridiculous," a thin woman with a beak-like nose grumbled. She picked up her briefcase and left behind the young man who was still cursing on his way out.

"Oh," a woman in her mid-forties dressed in a soft gray suit cried out before slumping into the corner where she sat.

"Oh, my god, she fainted!" a younger woman in a short skirt and tight top sitting next to her exclaimed. Her eyes were wide with fear as if the other woman had just keeled over dead.

Georgie waited, glancing around at the other people in the room. No one moved. A few folks stared while others ignored the situation completely. Apparently no one was going to do anything to help the poor woman. Perhaps the woman had passed out from lack of food or the rising heat of the room, maybe because of both. She took the chocolate bar from her purse before going to the woman. She patted the woman on the shoulder sitting next to the unconscious woman to comfort her before she launched into a full blown panic.

"Calm down. She fainted. She's not dead," Georgie said with only a hint of an admonishment in her voice. She gingerly patted the face of the unconscious woman to rouse her a bit.

"What happened?" the woman asked, looking around in confusion with bleary eyes.

"You fainted. Are you hungry? Eat this," Georgie ordered her politely, pressing the candy into her hand.

"I knew I shouldn't have skipped breakfast this morning. How embarrassing," the woman muttered, ripping the foil wrapper from the chocolate. After stuffing two squares into her mouth, she uttered a muffled, "Thank you."

What the hell is this? Georgie pondered silently, looking around the half empty room. Once she was sure the woman was all right, she returned to her seat. As she was walking, her eyes scanned the corners of the room and the wall near the ceiling for cameras. Someone had to be watching them, testing them, but why? Had she gotten involved in some strange social experiment? There were two doors in the room: the glass door through which they had all entered and many had already exited; and white door that led to...none of them knew where it led to. She banged on the white door, then paused to wait for someone to answer.

"What are you doing?" a man grumpily questioned her, taking off his coat and loosening his tie.

"I'm going to get answers as to what the hell is going on here," she replied, hammering the door with her fist again.

There was a loud crackle of static then an ear splitting whine as if a microphone was set too close to a speaker.

"All of you can go home. Interviews are closed for the day," a deep, obviously masculine voice announced.

There were several shouts of 'what?' spoken with emotions ranging from disbelief to indignation. There were also many random explitives being tossed out as well.

"No. That can't be. Not a single person was called," Georgie muttered, anger spurring her to continue beating on the door. "Hey! I want someone to come out here and explain to me exactly what the hell was going on here today."

"Interviews are closed. Please leave," the voice requested in a polite but stern manner.

"I want to know what this was about. What were we all doing here? What is this job exactly? Or is there really a job? Was this just some weird experiment conducted by a university student seeking his graduate degree in human behavior?" She stopped shouting her questions to be met with an extended silence. She was the only one left in the room, yet she waited. There was an electrical hum in the air that told her the person behind the voice was still there, listening. "I'm waiting."

"Congratulations," the voice announced. "You've made it to the second step of the process. If you wish to continue, follow the instructions you are about to be given."

Georgie had no idea if she wanted to continue playing this bizarre little game. The door opened in front of her, and she jumped back just in case there was someone there ready to snatch her inside. With a screeching squeak of unused hinges, the door slowly swung open to reveal a dimly lit room. There was another metal chair sitting inside the small, bare room. A mirror, most likely a two way mirror, took up most of the wall in front of her.

"Please have a seat, Miss Lathrop," the baritone voice that bordered on sexy commanded her.

Upon entering the room, she could see that there was a door to her right. Apprehensively, she advanced into the room, keeping her eyes on the door. She was not too concerned about whoever might be observing her on the other side of the mirror. They could not grab her, tie her up, and carry her off somewhere like someone could if they came through that door. The door never opened though. Once she had taken a seat, what she assumed to be the interview began.

"State your full name."

Georgie responded in a calm, measured voice. "Georgina Felicity Mae Lathrop." There was a long pause. "Would you like my address? Date of birth? Mother's maiden name? Blood type?"

"No. We have that," responded the disembodied voice through the speaker attached to the wall above the mirror. "You live on 415 Maple Drive, Apartment B2. You've lived there for two years. Would you like to hear your previous addresses?"

"That won't be necessary," she muttered, apprehension making her belly tighten.

"Your date of birth is December third. You're thirty years old. Your mother's maiden name is Stankowsky and your blood type is O positive. I could tell you where you attended kindergarten, elementary school, middle school, and high school. I know you had one of your lower front teeth knocked out your senior year of high school during a Taekwando tournament. You continued on to win your match then went to the dentist. You had a fake replacement tooth screwed into your jaw. You were engaged at the age of twenty-two but broke it off when you discovered your fiancee was cheating on you. You took the term breaking up quite literally by breaking his nose with a barehanded punch. You spent a night in jail for assault and paid a hefty fine because of that incident."

"Enough!" she yelled, her face red with anger and humiliation. "I seriously doubt any of that information is relevant to the job. Do I need to provide the information that is pertinent or do you have that on a list somewhere beyond my extremely personal details?"

"You attended university but dropped out after three years within thirty credit hours of graduating with a bachelor's degree in psychology. After leaving school, you traveled around the world including most of the United States and Europe with extended stays in villages no one had heard of in Italy, Greece, and Spain. You returned home two years ago when your parents died and have been taking random jobs since then. Did we miss anything?"

"Nope. Not a damn thing," she said, standing up to pace the room nervously. "What is this job anyway? Am I going to need top secret clearance for this? Will I be required to sign a gag order? A contract promising to keep my mouth shut because I will be exposed to highly sensitive government secrets or something?"

"A very important government asset will be put into your care," the voice announced, the tone quite serious conveying the gravity of the situation to her. "Yes, you will need special security clearance for this employment position. There will be a contract that you have to sign swearing your promise to keep the secret. The asset is the secret. Should you divulge any information about his identity, the punishment will be swift and severe."

"I'll be sued, right?"

"No." Silence filled the room like a more discernible entity than the one to whom the voice belonged. "You'll be killed."

Georgie stumbled, immediately feeling faint. She hobbled to the chair on jellied knees, sitting down before she fell down. What the hell was this? Why had she seemed to be handpicked, culled from the rest of the group? Obviously they knew everything about her. They probably knew things about her that she didn't know or had forgotten. So whatever this important job was, did she really want it? It sounded dangerous and frightening. How terribly exciting. She had no family. Her parents had died two years ago in a car accident which was the only reason she had come home in the first place. She had been forced to return to settle the estate, to sell off her childhood home and clear up any outstanding debt they had left behind. By the time all was said and done, she had been left with barely enough money to move herself into a crummy, run down apartment and buy herself a beat up used car. She aimlessly drifted from job to job, unable to find fulfillment in any of them. What did she have to lose by taking this job? Other than leaving behind a mediocre existence that she desperately hated, she had absolutely nothing to lose. She failed to see the negative side of this thing. Besides the possibility of death of course. Keeping her mouth shut should be easy since she had no friends or family to leak top secret government information to.

"Miss Lathrop, do you want the job?" the voice asked.

"Yes, I'll take it," she replied.

"Come to FBI headquarters tomorrow morning at ten. Ask for Special Agent Rester at the front desk. Your second interview will be conducted there. Congratulations, and good day."

"FBI headquarters?" That explained why they knew every little detail about her life. She went to the closed door to her right, stunned when the knob easily turned, and she was able to open it. There was another dimly lit hall and a door that looked like it opened into the room behind the mirror. It was unlocked too. There was no one there. All that was inside the room was a square folding card table, no chairs, with a laptop sitting on it. Message boxes were popping up on the screen of the computer at a fast rate displaying a time remaining bar along with a message of deleting files. No one had been here the whole time. They had been communicating remotely and now they were destroying the hard drive of the computer that had been the link so she could not track them through backdooring an IP address. The IP address would most likely have been encrypted anyway or changing every few seconds to hide their true location.

Georgie realized she had gotten herself into some deep water in which she hoped she didn't drown. So that was it. Destiny had collided with chance and was about to make something extraordinary happen in her life.


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you sure she's the right candidate for the job?" Halle inquired as the three of them waited in a conference room. They were all looking over files that contained every last detail of Georgina Felicity Mae Lathrop's life. Pictures were included. Near would be brought in to watch the interview behind the two way glass. The final decision would be his.

"I think she's perfect for the job," Stephen piped up, flipping through the black and white 8x10s. He had followed the woman yesterday after she left the interview. She had stopped by a Chinese restaurant for take out which she ate in the park near the fountain. After a stroll around the park, she drove home. She took a shower, read for a few hours, drank a beer, and went to bed at ten. Although she looked like a carefree spirit in her Boho attire, she appeared to enjoy schedules and routine too.

"I think you think she's got a great set of hooters," she accused the fellow agent she had worked with for so many years.

"That too," he agreed with a blush. He tucked away the picture of Georgie that he had taken of her wearing a tank top and pajama shorts. The thin cotton fabric of her tank top had strained under the weight of her braless D sized breasts. He loved surveillance sometimes.

"Anyway," Anthony interrupted, clearing his throat. "I believe she is the best candidate out of what we saw yesterday. She showed the ability to care about other people and take action to help them. She's smart, tough, and well traveled. I think she's exactly what we're looking for. I think she's what Near needs."

"Wouldn't an agent, someone already associated with the CIA, be a better candidate to be his assistant?" Halle asked, sitting back in her chair. She was like an overprotective big sister. They all had developed familial ties with the boy who was like Peter Pan and had refused to grow up.

"No," Anthony replied gruffly, resolute in his choice to hire someone who had no ties to the government agency - or _any_ government agency for that matter. Actually Georgie had been off the grid for quite a while, traveling the path less in the most literal sense. She did things her way and did not care what anyone thought about it, but she also knew how to take care of herself. A single woman traveling alone had to be a scary prospect in itself, and she had done it through several countries and cultures, managing to stay alive and not suffer any other damage. "If we hired an agent to be Near's handler, they would see him as their superior. They would blindly follow his orders without questioning him. I think this woman will challenge him, force him to step up and take responsibility while also tending to his needs. Look at we what we did, we coddled him and babied him just like what was expected of us because he was the leader of the SPK. He doesn't need more of that."

"I see your point," Halle rejoined with a sigh of resignation.

The intercom beeped. Anthony Rester pressed the button to answer the receptionist from the front desk.

"There's a Georgie Lathrop here to see you, sir."

"I'll be right down to get her. Thank you."

~...~

Georgie smiled in acknowledgement when the receptionist told her that Agent Rester would be right down to retrieve her. She shifted her heavy shoulder bag, turning to glance around the atrium like lobby. She basically carried around her whole life with her at all times. Her passport and credit cards were among the items. There was also supplies such as a bottle of water, a package of dried fruit and nuts, allergy and pain medicine, and a small med kit with band aids, antibiotic ointment, and a suturing kit. There was even a change of clothes and a poncho. She had grown accustomed to carrying these things while traveling because she never knew what lay ahead of her. Bad weather, travel delays, or a simple spilled cup of coffee would no longer be a problem that would ruin her day.

It looked like a museum in the cavernous foyer of the government building. There were pictures of famous people and events in unadorned black frames hanging on the wall. Valuable documents were contained in glass cases with podiums in front each bearing plaques explaining their importance. She walked around to each one, giving the item careful consideration and reading every single word on the plaques. She had not expected a self-directed tour and a history lesson with this interview.

"Miss Lathrop?"

Georgie recognized the voice from yesterday. Turning to look at the man, she planted a smile on her lips to keep from gaping at him. He was gorgeous! Tall, blond, and blue eyed with the muscular physique of a football player, he looked like an all American hero. He was wearing a black suit with a shirt the same color as his eyes and a matching silk tie. A black suit - how fitting for a federal agent. She wiped her sweaty palms on the thighs of her faded jeans, nervously pushing up the billowy sleeves of her white top. Extending her hand to greet him with a handshake, she gripped his large hand firmly. She hated the limp wristed, jellyfish handshake most women felt it necessary to give. A handshake should be strong and confident, shouting to the other person 'I believe in me!'

"I'm Special Agent Anthony Rester, please come this way," he said, turning toward the bank of elevators from which he had come.

Georgie walked beside him, not behind him, being directed by the light pressure of his hand on her elbow. She kept her eyes straight ahead, resisting the urge to stare up at the man next to her. Standing at a petite five feet and three inches, she was sure he was over six feet tall. The interior of the elevator was drab with faux wood paneling and indoor/outdoor carpet in a dreary gray blue color. Her eyes followed his movements as he punched the button for the third floor. They stepped out into an equally bland corridor but the walls were a blinding white. Frosted glass doors lined the hallway on either side. Shiny golden plates held in frames attached to the wall by each door heralded the name of the occupant or the type of room it was. They stopped in front of the door bearing the name of Conference Room 3. What was the significance of the number three? It seemed to have been popping up a lot in her life over the past two days.

"Go inside please," he requested politely, opening the door and allowing her to go inside first.

There were two other people in the room. Another handsome male agent with black hair and blue eyes and a pretty female agent with blond hair and amber eyes. She was the only person in the room with brown eyes. Not that it mattered. She just had a tendency to notice odd, meaningless details.

"We will begin by asking you a few questions," Agent Rester announced after taking his seat.

A _few_ questions had been a meaningless expression. They must have asked a hundred questions, wanting more specific details about the generalities they knew from the dossiers in front of them. They asked her more personal questions, some embarrassing, as if trying to paint a clear picture of her personality for themselves. The asked her questions that were simply her opinion like they wanted to understand how she thought and reasoned. Apparently they had performed an extensive background check on her, but they still felt it necessary to discover her merits as a person. They seemed to be taking this whole thing very personally as if they had an emotional stake in the matter. But why?

"Can I have some water?" Georgie asked upon being asked what her goals were for the next five years. She could barely think about tomorrow. So much of her life had been spent in experiencing the moment that she had not ever given much thought to the future. How many people quit school, giving up a secure, lucrative career to travel the world like a gypsy not knowing where her next meal would come from just to live every moment like it was her last if she was concerned about the future?

The black haired man returned with a glass, an actual piece of stemware, full of cold water. Georgie had expected a wax covered paper cup. She felt like a dignitary being given a crystal goblet that would be better suited for an expensive wine. That sounded enticing at the moment. A glass of fine, dry red wine to tickle her taste buds and soothe her frayed nerves. This whole process of being grilled like a prisoner, but more cordially sans the naked lightbulb hanging from the ceiling while being tied with rope to a chair, was still tiring and nerve wracking. She hoped a third interview would not be required.

"Miss Lathrop, the question," the handsome blonde Captain America lookalike prodded.

"I don't have any five year goals. I have a problem with planning for the future. The present is a gift as they say so that's why we should live for today, right?" she questioned them in a rhetorical fashion, finishing off the water in her glass. As government drones, she figured they had their bathroom breaks plotted out on a time schedule.

"Hmmmm," Mr. Rester hummed, closing the folder in front of him. "You will be the personal assistant to a man named Near. You can address him as Near or N. You don't have to refer to him as mister or sir or anything so formal. However, he is a seasoned agent and a grown man. Keep that in mind and remain respectful at all times. Your duties will go beyond the typical scope of being a PA. There will a bit more..." He paused, floundering to find the correct words. He did not want to sound like a covert pervert by choosing the wrong phrasing to explain her job position. "Private...special...intimate, I suppose you could say."

Georgie began to sweat. Was she being hired as a personal assistant or a professional whore? Her throat instantly dried out making it difficult to swallow the lump in her throat or to speak with her thick tongue that stuck to the roof of her mouth. "Just how _personal_ of an assistant are we talking about, Mr. Rester?"

He nervously cleared his throat before speaking. Apparently his struggle to grasp the right words had failed. "As you recall, this is a live in position. Certain domestic duties will be required. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, and the like, in addition to your administrative duties at the agency. Your responsibilities at the office will include - "

"Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute," she interrupted, holding up her hand in a stop gesture to him. "Let me see if I'm understanding this correctly. I will be expected to be his live in housekeeper as well as his administrative assistant at work? Is that right?"

"Correct," he responded curtly. "Any other questions?"

"Are you being serious right now?" she demanded huffily, offended at this point. She stood to her feet, planting her fists on her hips. "How old is he exactly?"

"Twenty-eight."

"This can't be real. I thought I was going to be a nanny to a child, not babysitting a government agent at home _and_ at the office. I'll always be at work no matter where I am. Are you kidding me?"

"See! I told you this was a bad idea," the woman with golden blond locks hissed angrily at her coworker.

"This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" Georgie shrilled, slamming her palms down on the table. The glass jumped and rattled from the hard hit on the surface below it but it did not fall over.

"Would you like to meet Near? Maybe you will understand then," Rester said, his face looking strained, tense with emotion.

"Fine," Georgie grumbled, plopping back down into her chair.

The door opened and a young man walked in. They had told her he was twenty eight, but he looked much younger. She would have guessed late teens at the most, but he had lost the baby fat from his cheeks and had the defined jaw line of a grown man. He was short and slim, maybe three inches taller than her and probably weighed the same as her. His baggy light colored jeans and white button down dress shirt that was two sizes too big made him look even smaller. He was not wearing shoes, only white socks. He had shaggy, snowy white hair that was almost curly. He nervously twisted a thick lock around his index finger. His eyes were the dark gray color of a stormy sky. They met and held hers. He did not smile. His gaze was intense and unwavering as if he was looking into her very soul to judge her as a person.

"I don't need a babysitter," he said, his voice soft, almost breathy but undeniably outraged.

Georgie audibly gulped. Near looked terrified and helpless but at the same time angry and insulted. Obviously he did not like this whole situation either. He appeared to be a child trapped in the body of a man, not sure of how to handle himself. Tension spread through the room so densely it created an electrical charge in the air. There was no sound, not even of air moving, as if all of them were holding their breath.

"I don't want to be a babysitter," Georgie told him, standing up from her chair to move toward him. She stopped when his eyebrows drew together over his eyes as if silently warning her not to come any closer.

"Then why are you here? That's the job isn't it?" he grumbled, his angry eyes flashing to the three other people in the room. He glared at each one in turn.

Georgie developed the distinct feeling that Near felt betrayed by these people. She had no idea what was going here but judging by the extensive and bizarre interview process and the current sad expression on all of their faces, these people cared for him deeply. Like a family. They had worked together on such a close and intimate level, probably for a long time, that they had formed a family of sorts. They were asking her to join that family. She had never felt connected or a part of her own family and now her parents were gone. The whole situation seemed so sad and depressing, tugging at her heart strings.

"Don't you need a friend?" Georgie asked, drawing his attention back to her. "I will be your friend as well as your roommate and coworker. There's nothing wrong with finding someone to rely on is there? We all need a little help in life."

Near's expression softened, his eyebrows separating again as his anger dissipated slightly.

"I suppose a friend is good," Near mumbled, keeping his eyes on her.

"We can just try this for a while, see what happens. If you don't like me or I don't like you...well, then I can leave and you can find someone else for the task." Georgie smiled at him when his eyes met hers. His eyes did not register emotion, but there was definitely a lot going on there. He seemed to be considering everything about her, making calculations and finding conclusions in his brain that she did not understand.

"Okay," he said, moving to stand in front of her.

Georgie tilted her chin upward to keep her eyes on his. He was barely taller than her. Short for a man but a nice height in comparison to her. She liked the fact he was close to her size, not a giant in stature and brawn looming over her menacingly. Taking his hand in hers, she noted how soft and cool his palm was against hers. She shook his hand gently but with assurance because she could tell that he was unaccustomed to physical contact. "It's nice to meet you, Near. I look forward to getting to know you."

Anthony Rester breathed a sigh of relief. He leaned over to whisper triumphantly to Halle Lidner. "See, I told you she was the right choice."

* * *

Author's Note: I hope you like the story so far. Unfortunately, I won't be publishing chapters at such a fast pace in the future. I just happened to write these two together and wanted to publish them together since they hinge so closely on the other.


	3. Chapter 3

Georgie sat in her car after she parked by the curb. She stared at the four story condominium that looked as if it had been paneled with wooden planks stained a dark walnut color. Although tall, the building was narrow and completely square. She picked up the piece of paper that she had discarded in her passenger's seat to recheck the address. The address was correct. Of course if she were at the wrong place, the guard at the front gate would not have allowed her onto the property grounds.

The front wall of the bottom floor, which was actually a wide door, lifted to reveal that the first level was a garage. Agent Rester stood in the garage and waved for her to drive inside. Georgie pulled in carefully despite having plenty of room since it was a two car garage and her car was the only one in it at the moment. She could feel the heat of a blush cover her face when her brakes squealed deafeningly as she applied them to come to a complete stop.

"Welcome to your new home, Georgie," the polite but all business agent greeted her, opening her door for her. "Do you need help with your belongings?"

"I don't have much," she returned, walking to the back of the car. She slid her key into the rusty lock that refused to budge. Giving the agent a sheepish smile, she slammed her fist down on the trunk in that one certain spot that would jiggle the lock and allow the key to turn. A dent had formed in the metal due to her constant administration of punches to loosen the stubborn lock.

"Ah, so I see," Anthony Rester said, reaching into the trunk for her two big suitcases.

Georgie ran around to open the passenger's door to retrieve her backpack and purse. Those few bags contained the sum total of all of her life up to this point. It was kind of sad really but convenient for moving. She jumped when the garage door began to lower. As darkness started to fill the space, a light turned on overhead to dispel the shadows.

"Cool," she mumbled, glancing around. The garage was cleaner than her old apartment. The walls were a spotless white and the floor a sealed and shiny concrete slab. There were two doors on either side of the wall in front of her.

"The one on the right there goes to the laundry room. This one goes up stairs to the living area. Do you mind opening that?" Anthony inquired, nodding his head toward the door in front him.

"Oh, right," she mumbled, lunging forward. Once again, she felt embarrassed as she turned the knob and opened the door. His hands were full with her heavy, cumbersome old fashioned suitcases yet her hands were free because her bags were slung over her shoulders. A narrow floating staircase was set between two white walls with a wall of glass behind them. She followed the man up the stairs that opened into a two room space with no walls. There was a kitchen and a living room with a fireplace. Everything was very modern, all straight lines and crisp edges. Minimalism at its finest decorated in espresso brown with bold accents of olive green and pumpkin orange.

"As you can tell, this is the kitchen and living room," he announced before moving on to the staircase straight in front of them that led to the third level. "There's a guest bathroom hidden under this staircase."

"Does Near have guests?" she asked, jogging up the stairs behind him.

"On occasion," he replied.

 _A man of few words. Guess most agents are lest they allow something to slip that they shouldn't,_ Georgie thought to herself. "What are these rooms?"

This floor was divided into two rooms with walls and doors, a short hall of dark hardwood flooring between them that led to yet another staircase.

"A library, study, whatever you would prefer to call it, and Near's office. He'll be working from here most of the time so there wouldn't have been a great delineation between your two jobs anyway," he said, the corners of his lips twitching as he resisted the urge to smile.

The tantrum she had thrown in the interview had been quite amusing and encouraging. He liked her spirit, her emotionalism. Near needed someone like that to shake him up, annoy him if she had to, to do something to elicit an emotional response from him. The boy had always been _too_ calm, cool, and collected relying on logic and dry wit to get him through every situation. Anthony could count on one hand how many times Near had 'lost his cool' or had a spontaneous, unrestrained display of emotions. When they had told him about the SPK being dissolved had been the most recent of one of those rare episodes.

The third floor of the living space was set up just like the second, a room on each side of the hall with the doors facing each other and opening into the hall. These had to be the bedrooms. Apparently each one had an attached bathroom since there were no more doors that would lead to one. Georgie had endured enough of communal bathrooms in hostels in Europe or other places that simply did not have more than one or two restrooms to a floor of rooms. Having a private bath, emphasis on the _private,_ would be a genuine luxury for her.

"This is your room," Anthony said, opening the door on his right. "You can decorate it as you wish."

Georgie entered the room ahead of him, setting her backpack and purse on the pristine white quilted mattress of the unmade platform bed. The walls were white and bare - so much white like snow covered tundra that stretched on forever. Or a blank canvas. She could do anything she wanted to with this space, truly make it her own. There was a plain, rectangular chest of drawers painted with glossy black lacquer and an architect's desk with a high backless chair. The door to the empty closet stood open and was ready to be filled. The sun coming through the curtainless window set near the ceiling filled the room with light that was blinding bouncing off of the white walls.

"So this is it?" she murmured, sliding her hands across the soft top of the cushy mattress. She did not have sheets and no money to go buy any. A couple gallons of gas and a quart of oil for the old clunker had taken her last twenty dollars so she could get here.

"This is for you," Agent Rester said, holding out an envelope to her. "Here's an allotment for moving expenses and buying furniture or anything else you might need. If you need more, just ask for it."

"Thank you," she responded, taking the envelope from him. It had the official FBI seal on it so it was not charity coming straight from him. That would have been downright demoralizing. She did not accept handouts. Her money had always been earned; never borrowed, stolen, or begged for.

"Near is at the agency for a debriefing to inform him of all of the changes. He will arrive home around five." Anthony Rester paused, pushing up his black jacket sleeve to look at his watch. "It's noon. Now would be a good time to go shopping. Oh, and you might want to go grocery shopping as well. Beware of the refrigerator. There might be a few science experiments lurking inside."

"Great," she muttered, already feeling sick to her stomach.

"This is yours too." He handed her a cell phone. "My number, Agent Lidner's and Agent Gevanni's are programmed into that phone so you can reach us if you need us. Of course we have other numbers in there that will be useful to you."

Georgie pressed the button to turn on the phone. She scrolled through the contacts. Just as he said, their numbers were in there. Near had a phone as well and his number was there. There was a disturbingly long list of the phone numbers for restaurants that offered take out.

"Didn't his recent housekeeper cook for him?" she asked, putting the phone down.

"He didn't have one. He lived here by himself. Those are all of his favorite take out places."

Georgie was confused. "So why hire a housekeeper now? Why me?"

Agent Anthony Rester allowed his stoic facade drop. A smile curled his lips and a softer, more genuine expression seeped into his pale blue eyes. "You are going to be much more than a housekeeper. You said it yourself that he needed a friend. A lot of things are changing for Near. We're not sure how well he's going to handle these changes. He's always been...different."

"Different how?" she inquired, anxiety causing her whole body to tense.

"He's a little socially awkward. He's not really good at relating to others or talking to people normally sometimes. He's also quite a bit emotionally stunted, unable to express his emotions freely," he explained, hoping he was getting the point across without painting a negative picture of Near in her mind.

"I see. So he won't like snap and become a serial killer or something right?"

"No," he chuckled lightly. "He's not suffering from a type of psychosis. He's just underdeveloped and a little immature." His expression hardened, the muscles in his jaw fluttering as if something were alive under his skin. "Georgie, Near catches serial killers and other criminals for a living. He would never become one. Have you ever heard of Kira?"

"Yes, I vaguely remember that name. He was the serial killer who killed prisoners in Japan right?"

Oh, Kira had been so much more than that. Her oversimplified take on the matter was almost comical. That's how Kira had begun but then there was a whole lot more to the story. So many details and incidents that the world didn't know about had taken place during that case. Things that both the Japanese and American governments had buried deep within encrypted computer files. But that was all in a day's work in the CIA; saving the clueless citizens from threats that they will never know existed. The agents were the ultimate unsung heroes. Near was a savior of the human race, and they would never know his name or his face. Anthony Rester intended to keep it that way for Near's safety.

"Kira killed many investigators, one who Near knew personally, who tried to bring him to justice. Do you know who finally stopped him?" Agent Rester asked, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his black pants.

"Well, no," she responded, laughing nervously. "No one knows."

"You're right. And they never will. It has been my job for over a decade to make sure that doesn't happen. It has also become yours," he told her, making a crisp military turn on his heel to stride toward the door. "Good day, Miss Lathrop. I pray that you do not regret taking this job. We need you. Near needs you."

His parting words hung in the air like a daunting ghost that terrified her and would haunt her for the rest of her life. Georgie flung her arms out wide, flopping back on the bed. She stared up at the ghastly white ceiling.

"Holy shit, Georgina Mae, what have you gotten yourself into?" she questioned herself out loud, using the name her mother had always called her when she was in big trouble as a child. Pushing up on her elbows, she looked around the room. Paint. She would need paint. Maybe a light robin's egg blue or the barest shade of green to give the room a calming air. Sheets, curtains, throw rugs, towels, hangers...so many things to buy.

Georgie hopped up from the bed to go down to clean the refrigerator. She wanted to cook for Near tonight, have a meal waiting for him when he arrived home. She felt like Old Mother Hubbard after examining the contents of the cupboard because it was terribly bare. As a matter of fact, she doubted anything had ever been put in there. She opened the refrigerator and was immediately slapped in the face with the odor of something in a late stage of decay. Four sixteen ounce bottles of water, Chinese take out cartons half full of rancid food, Styrofoam containers that reeked, clear plastic containers of mysterious substances, four cans of soda, and a box of baking soda were the contents of the refrigerator. After going through every drawer in the kitchen, she found a dish towel to use as personal protective equipment for the removal of the obnoxious, and possibly hazardous, leftovers. Once that was done, she added dish towels and plastic gloves to her mental list of things to buy. Then it was time to go shopping.

Georgie returned to the house a few minutes after four. She brought up the grocery bags first, two hooked on each arm to enable her to keep her balance as she ran up the stairs. After unloading them, she started cooking. Thankfully there was a basic set of pots and pans. She had forgotten to check before leaving. She was making beef tips and mushroom gravy with mashed potatoes for dinner. It was her favorite. She hoped Near liked it since she had absolutely no idea what kind of food he liked. The beef tips could simmer while she was bringing up everything else for her bedroom. She had just finished making up her bed with a luxurious set of Egyptian cotton sheets in a periwinkle blue color when she heard footsteps on the stairs.

"What's that smell?" Near asked her when she poked her head out of her room.

"Dinner. Are you hungry?" she inquired, running down the stairs. She still had to cook and mash the potatoes. She was cutting up the potatoes to toss them in the pot of water when he walked into the kitchen.

"You're cooking?" He came to stand next to her so he could watch what she was doing.

"Would you like to help?" She turned the knife around, holding it with her thumb and forefinger on the handle just behind the blade, to extend the handle to him.

"I don't know," he mumbled, stepping back from her as if she had shoved the blade toward him. "I've never done anything like this before."

"There's a first time for everything. Come on," she urged him, holding the knife handle out to him. "I'll teach you how to cut potatoes."

"O-okay," he stammered, slowly curling his fingers around the knife handle.

Georgie stood behind him, laying her hand over his that was gripping the knife so tightly his knuckles were turning white. She picked up a scrubbed but unpeeled potato, positioning it on the cutting board in front of him.

"What are we making?" he asked as she guided his hand through the first cut, dividing the potato lengthwise.

"Mashed potatoes," she answered, flipping one of the halves onto its flat side to begin moving his hand to make several more lengthwise cuts.

"You don't peel them first?" He stared at his hand as she led him through making several more slices width wise, turning the potato into little cubes.

"Nope. The skin is where most of the nutrients are. Besides, it adds an interesting flavor and texture to the mashed potatoes," she explained, scooping up the diced pieces to drop them in the pot. "You do this one alone. Loosen your grip a bit. Keep it firm but you don't have to strangle the knife to use it."

"Why are we cutting them up like this?" His movements were slow but precision, mimicking hers exactly.

"Hey, you're a fast learner," she complimented, raking the pieces into her hand and placing another potato for him to slice. "They cook much faster and more evenly this way. Doing it like this, we'll have yummy, creamy mashed potatoes in twenty minutes instead of lumpy, unevenly cooked potatoes in an hour."

"This is kind of fun," he said, chopping faster.

Georgie stood beside him, carefully watching over him to make sure he did not cut himself. She instructed him to curl his fingertips to hold the potato to prevent accidentally chopping one of them off with an overzealous slice. While the potatoes were cooking, she showed him how to set a table placement with dishes and silverware. The setting was simple with a plate, a napkin, a fork, and a glass. He seemed pleased to help out and interested in everything no matter how mundane the task since these were things he had not done before in his life. She enjoyed his childlike curiosity and eagerness for the new experience. After rinsing off the potato masher she had just bought, she handed it to him.

"Here, you do the honors," she said, stifling the temptation to giggle when he stared at the cooking utensil as if it were an alien weapon.

"What do I do with it?" he asked as she dropped a stick of butter into the potatoes.

"It's a potato masher. These are potatoes. We're making mashed potatoes," she said, pouring cream into the pot. "Figure it out."

Near glanced at her, the potato masher, and then the pot. He held the device over the pot before slamming it down with enough force to splash cream over the side onto the stove top.

"Whoa there, Slugger," she giggled, wiping up the mess with a damp wash cloth. She stood behind him again, placing her hands over his to show him how to use it correctly. She could feels the lean muscles of his biceps flexing against the inside of her arms as they made rhythmic up and down movements.

"How do I know when it's ready?"

"When the lumps are gone." She lowered her arms from his, peering around him to get a glimpse of what was going on in the pot. "Close. Just a little more, and we'll be ready to eat."

"Can I help you cook dinner tomorrow night?" he inquired while she was carrying the pan of meat and gravy to the round kitchen table.

"Sure. Anything in particular you would like to eat?"

"No. Not really. Here, look." He proudly held up the pot by the handles, showing her his handiwork.

"Fantastic," she complimented, watching a slow smile spread across his thin lips. So he could smile. When he did, he looked mischievous and conceited all at the same time. He was adorable. Not a term she would usually use in reference to a grown man, but it fit him. She took the pot and set it on the cast iron trivet shaped like an owl sitting on the table. "Let's eat."

They ate in silence. Near seemed to be totally focused on the food, relishing each bite like a food critic. His intensity and close scrutiny of every morsel was disconcerting to her. He made faces at times that she could not tell if they came from disgust or delight. She became so unnerved, her belly churning with apprehension, waiting for his opinion of the food that she could not eat.

"What do you think?" she queried finally, taking a sip of her water.

"It's good," he replied without enthusiasm and with a mouth full of food.

Georgie smiled and started eating. She would take it as a positive compliment and be happy. Obviously he liked it because he had not bothered to stop eating to issue the three syllables in response to her question. After dinner, she washed the dishes and tidied up the kitchen while he retreated upstairs. She was not sure where he went or what he was doing and did not feel it was her place yet to ask. Once the kitchen was clean, she went upstairs to her bedroom to take a shower. Afterwards, dressed in her usual pajamas of shorts and a tank top and went back downstairs for a glass of wine. Near still had not appeared from wherever he had gone.

"Near? Near?" she called out, but there was no answer. She could hear tapping like fingers typing on a keyboard so she followed the sound to his office. The door had been left open a little so she peeked through the small sliver of space. He was sitting at his desk typing furiously on the keyboard of the lap top. From her vantage point, she could see he was sitting in the chair with one knee pulled up to his chest, the other leg curled to the side. How unusual. He suddenly stopped typing and stared at the screen. From the way his eyes moved she could tell he was reading. She rapped on the door lightly using one knuckle.

"Yes?" he called, staring at the door as she pushed it open a little further.

"Do you need anything? I'm about to go to my room and read a bit, then I'm going to sleep," she said, holding the steady gaze of his sharp eyes. He always seemed to be thinking.

"I'm fine. Thank you for dinner. Good night," he said a little brusquely, bordering on rude. She felt as if she had interrupted something and he could not wait for her to leave.

"Good night," she rejoined, closing the door behind her. Just a little socially awkward. No more so than many people she came into contact on the street everyday though. Perhaps it was situations with more than one person or people he did not know well where he had problems. So far, she did not see a problem with his behavior. She went to her bedroom where she planned to stay for the rest of the night. She was exhausted. Her first day gone surprisingly well.


	4. Chapter 4

Georgie lingered in that wonderful place between being asleep and being awake. Things were lovely here. Warm, comfortable, and oh so pleasant. She sighed contentedly, turning onto her side. Hugging her pillow to her body, she hunkered down into the bed until the silky cotton sheets covered her head. This was nice. She could stay here forever. But then...the strange electrical tingle started in her lower back sending pulses up her spine to her brain. That odd and unmistakable feeling of being watched was urging her into wakefulness. Throwing back the sheet, the first thing she saw was the hawk like stare of a pair of storm cloud gray eyes under a thick mop of white hair. She screamed in surprise, pulling the sheet back over her head. The sheet would protect her. The eighth of an inch thick piece of material would protect her from anything. When she was a child, the impenetrable sheet shielded her from monsters under the bed. But this was no monster. This was an overgrown kid with an insatiable curiosity. Obviously this had to be part of the seriously lacking interpersonal skills Agent Rester had been referring to.

Georgie took a deep breath, gradually peeling the sheet down from her face. Near had not moved a muscle. He was still sitting in the chair in his weird way, staring her with unblinking eyes. He had dragged the chair he was sitting in into the her room at some point during the night. How had she had not heard that? A better question would be why was he in her room? Why was he sitting here gawking at her as if she were a scientific specimen to be studied? She realized that maybe she was a scientific experiment to him as he observed her every move with analytical eyes.

"Good morning," she said, sitting up in the bed. When he did not answer, she inquired, "How long have you been there?"

"A while," he replied vaguely. "Did you know that you snore? Probably due to the alcohol. You really shouldn't drink alcohol before bed. Most people mistakenly believe it helps them sleep better. In actuality, it disrupts your sleep cycle. But red wine does have health benefits such as - "

"Near!" she exclaimed to interrupt his ramble. Her bladder felt like it was about to burst, and she really wanted him to leave since he had already put her ill at ease. "Can you please leave? There are some things I need to attend to."

"Oh, like bladder evacuation. That is a physical necessity after not voiding your bladder for several consecutive hours. Considering you have been asleep for nine hours, you should be experiencing considerable discomfort," he informed her in a monotone voice like a bored physician.

"Nine hours?" she mumbled to herself. She had been more tired than she had thought. He definitely needs work on interpersonal skills. He was still babbling about the possible negative side effects if she continued to hold her urine. He was correct in that she was definitely feeling considerable discomfort and that was for two reasons: due to her bladder being full and from waking up with an audience of one in her room. She held up her hand in a stop gesture, and he immediately ceased speaking. At least her understood some basic nonverbal cues. "Near, get out. I have to pee. I'll be downstairs in a minute to cook breakfast."

"Okay," he said, unfolding from the chair to leave.

Once he was gone, Georgie hobbled to the bathroom to do her business. Nine hours? She guessed he did not have to go to work today since he was still here. Agent Rester had not told her what a regular day's schedule would be like. Maybe they were giving him a few days off to acclimate to his new live in, extremely personal, personal assistant. She washed her faced and changed clothes, slipping into a loose pair of faded, distressed jeans and body hugging red t-shirt. She found him downstairs in the kitchen, sitting at the table.

"Ready for another cooking lesson?" she asked, opening a cabinet door to pull out a bottle of pancake mix. It was the add water, shake, and pour kind. Breakfast didn't get much easier than that.

"Not really," he yawned without covering his mouth.

"You didn't sleep?" She ran water to the fill line of the bottle containing the mix then replaced the cap before handing it to him. "Shake this. You can do that at least."

"I don't sleep well. I barely sleep at all," he mumbled, shaking the bottle vigorously.

"Why? Can't shut off your mind? Can't stop thinking?" She turned on the burner under the square griddle pan and took the bottle from him before they had pancakes that were too light and fluffy from all of the shaking.

"Something like that."

Georgie now understood why he appeared to be wearing heavily smudged black eyeliner under his eyes not to mention the bags he carried on his face that looked heavier than her luggage. It must be terrible having a constant stream of thought running through your brain, not giving you one moment's peace. She understood what a heavy burden it can be to endure a steady flow of consciousness, never ceasing thoughts, questions, ideas, all piling on top of another. Perhaps that was why he chose to shut down emotionally. If he attempted to feel, to cipher through his emotions and his thoughts simultaneously, it would all be too much to handle. Besides, life was much easier when emotions were not involved. Thinking logically and coherently was easier in the absence of feelings. Making decisions by taking into account only the facts and figures would prevent many mistakes and disasters that can ruin one's life. She could have prevented a mess in her own life had she bypassed her emotions and gone with the evidence. She had the sneaking suspicion for months that her fiancee was a cheating sleaze bag but had agreed to marry him anyway because she loved him. The warm, fuzzy feelings he elicited in her told her that he loved her. She believed his lies and his flattering words because he made her feel special. Her feelings misled her. If she had considered the facts - the furtive phone calls, the constant texts, his lame excuses for constantly working extra hours without bringing home a bigger paycheck - she would have gotten rid of him long before she garnered a prison record.

"Georgie? Are you all right?" Near asked her, breaking through her out of control thoughts.

"Yeah, why?" she shot back defensively.

"You're burning the pancakes," he informed her flatly.

"Oh, shit!" she exclaimed, picking up the smoking pancakes, pan and all, to toss them into the sink. She flipped on the water to cool off the hot mess before it went up in flames. Hot messes seemed to be a mainstay in her life. Flicking the switch to turn on the exhaust fan over the stove, she waved a dish towel to send the acrid smoke from the burned food toward the pipe. "Dammit," she grumbled, turning to look at him. "How do you feel about going out to eat?"

"I don't go out to eat," he told her with resolution in his voice. His eyebrows had drawn together and sneer of disgust curled his lip showing his over all distaste for the concept of 'going out.'

"You do now if you want to eat. Get dressed and let's go," she ordered him, running upstairs to get a pair of shoes and her purse.

"We can order take out," he suggested, following her into her bedroom.

"Nope. We're going out," she insisted, opening one of her unpacked suitcases. She pulled out a pair of plain black thong sandals.

"But I don't want to," he argued with the whiny petulance of a child.

"Fine. Stay here and be hungry," she shot back, picking up her purse that was almost the same size as her backpack.

"Georgie, I can't!" he yelled, his voice loud enough that it shocked her into instantly freezing. "I've never been out to a restaurant...except to pick food up and come straight back home. Please, I just...can't"

Georgie turned around, looking into his eyes that had darkened with fear. She patted his cheek as if he were a frightened child. "How about this? We'll go through a drive through at a fast food restaurant then go eat at the park. Is that a fair compromise?"

"I suppose," he mumbled, staring at his bare toes.

"Okay. Let's go. Get dressed." She passed him and walked out of the room.

Near was wearing a loose white tunic shirt and soft fleecy gray pants. "But I am dressed!"

"Get your shoes, and let's go then!"

Twenty minutes later they were sitting in the same park where Georgie had enjoyed a lunch of Chinese take out the day before. They were feasting on biscuits with sausage, tater tots, and miniature cinnamon rolls. Georgie was choking down an awful cup of fast food coffee while Near enjoyed his orange juice. She wished she had gotten orange juice too. It would have been healthier for her. Near had even listed why it would have been a healthier beverage choice despite the high sugar content. She observed him carefully as he studied the people around them. Although he seemed skittish around other humans, he appeared fascinated by them as well. They were sitting in a grassy area on a blanket under the shade of a big oak tree.

A college student wearing a sweatshirt with a university logo emblazoned on the front and a backpack strapped to her back rode by on the sidewalk that skirted the edge of their little picnic area. A couple were playing fetch with their dog nearby in another partition created by interconnecting sidewalks. Squirrels ran up and down the trees around them, their tiny claws scratching the bark while the fat little fuzzies anticipated crumbs to eat. The fountain a few yards away created a water dance as it shot up from the cement pad while children squealed with glee and hopped through the jets of water.

"What do you think?" Georgie asked, nudging his knee with the toe of her bare foot.

"About what?" he questioned her, stuffing so much food in his mouth he looked like one of the greedy squirrels who were growing brave, or hungry, and edging closer to their blanket.

"About being here. The park, the people, everything," she said, throwing a piece of her cinnamon roll to one courageous furry soul who had perched on the edge of their blanket.

"You know they can carry rabies and all sort of other diseases," he proclaimed.

"Humans? They can be pretty nasty, but I doubt the rabies thing," she returned, knowing full well that he was referring to the squirrel.

"No, I meant the - "

"Near, I know. It was a joke."

"How was that funny?" He cocked his head like a confused puppy.

"Ugh," she groaned, flopping back onto the blanket. "Never mind."

 _Can you teach someone to have a sense of humor?,_ she wondered. Maybe. She was going to try anyway. She stared at the puffy white clouds floating across the gorgeous blue sky. "Hey, Near. Come here. Lay down beside me."

Near folded his other leg under him and stretched out onto his belly before rolling onto his back. He scooted close to her until his shoulder touched hers.

"The sky is such a pretty blue today. It reminds me of the clear blue water in the Caribbean," she commented, recalling snorkeling in that beautiful water.

"Did you know that the sky isn't actually blue? Sunlight is made up of the full spectrum of colors but we see the light as white. The color blue has the shortest wavelength and is scattered more profusely than the other colors therefore - " It was like flipping a switch. She never knew when she was going to be treated to an impromptu scientific lecture.

"Shhhh!" she hissed, poking him lightly in the side with her elbow.

"What? Why do I need to be quiet? It's a scientific fact," he said although he had already made her abundantly aware of that information.

"Be quiet. Close your eyes," she prompted him, propping up her elbow to look at him so she could verify that he had closed his eyes.

"Why?" he questioned her with suspicion in his voice, his eyes wide open and fixed on her face.

"Close your eyes," she ordered him. She waited until his long black eyelashes drifted downward to lie against his flawless porcelain white cheeks. The heat from the sun had given his cheeks a little bit of color in the form of a blush. She decided they better leave soon before his delicate skin burned. "Listen to the sounds around you. Concentrate on the sensation of the breeze blowing across your skin. Did you hear that squirrel chatter angrily at another squirrel?"

"I hear a voice. A nice voice, but a voice that keeps talking so I can't hear all of the other sounds," he retorted smartly, opening one eye to look at her. He had a sideways smirk on his face that made her want to slap him.

"Oh, you do have a sense of humor. A sarcastic sense of humor, but a sense of humor nonetheless. You were hiding that weren't you?" She giggled when he nodded, his lopsided grin broadening until the white of his teeth peeked through his rose red lips. "We better get you back home before you get a sunburn. I also didn't get this field trip approved by Agent Rester."

"He's not my father you know," Near muttered irritably.

"I know," she returned, gathering their trash and stuffing it in the bag that had contained their food. "He does care an awful lot about you...like a father would."

Near stayed silent, picking up the blanket to fold it neatly into a square. He picked up her purse and held it out to her at an arm's length. His arm began to drop when she did not immediately take it from him.

"What have you got in here?" he asked, breathing a sigh of relief when she grabbed it before it hit the ground.

"My whole life and few things to help me along the way," she answered, slinging the bag over her shoulder. "Come on, let's go."

~...~

Anthony Rester shut off the monitor when the duo returned to Near's condo. He had not been a happy camper when she took Near out in public without receiving permission from him first. Then he reminded himself that in the outside world, Near was just another person; one of the numerous faces of humanity flowing along the streets that no one really paid any attention to at all. No one knew the things he had done, what he had accomplished. Also, venturing into the 'real' world with Near was part of what he had hired her for. Near had been kept hidden for long enough - too long really. The boy had grown into a man in seclusion, kept apart from the rest of the world. Sometimes it was easy to forget that there were good things about the world and the people in it, that danger and death did not lurk around every corner or reside in every person's heart. Dealing with the dregs of humanity, the clinically insane and veritable evil geniuses, the ones who wanted to take over the world or kill everyone in it, made it all too easy to forget the good things in life. It was time that Near discovered a few of those good things.

Georgina Felicity Mae Lathrop seemed to be one of those good things. She could play the part of the tragic victim because her life had not been the greatest. Her father, an army colonel, had moved the small family all over the world before finally settling in Washington DC when he was given a job at the Pentagon. He knew from the beginning that Georgie had an indirect tie with a government agency, but she had not worked for one herself.

Her father was a cruel and violent man, controlling and paranoid. Georgie had left home at the first opportunity after her graduation from high school at a local high school here in DC. She tried to do the right thing, the normal thing, in an attempt to make her father proud and free her mother from that terrible situation. She had majored in psychology in an attempt to understand her father's penchant for violence, to comprehend her mother's willingness to stay with that man, and to work through her own torn emotions of simultaneously loving and hating her parents. At the beginning of her senior year, she found herself pregnant with a cheating fiancee. Her father came to bail her out after discovering that she was in jail on an assault charge after breaking the nose of the philandering father of her unborn child. Her father had always had a knack for uncovering everything that she had tried to hide from him. She had never been able to hide anything from him. Therefore, she had never smoked or drank or sneaked out of the house to meet a boy or did any of those things teens are known for doing as typical acts of rebellion. His punishments were too fast and brutal for her to risk receiving them over such dumb things that he would perceive as a personal attack on his reputation. To find his daughter pregnant, without a husband, and toting a rap sheet was more than he could bear. He beat her within an inch of her life, requiring that she be transported to the hospital before she died in her bedroom at home. The baby could not be saved. She narrowly escaped death herself. Against doctor's orders and despite barely being able to walk, she had left the hospital soon after regaining consciousness. Wearing the torn bloodstained clothes that she had been brought in with and having only a hundred dollars in her purse, she took a cab home where got into her car to take a short drive.

Two days later, Georgie woke up in her car on the strip in Las Vegas, Nevada because a police officer was tapping on her window. She stayed in the cheapest hotel she could find to recover from her injuries. Once the bruises were healed, she went to a thrift shop to buy clothes with her last ten dollars. Wearing a tight top and a short skirt, she was able to find work as a Las Vegas showgirl. After making a little money, she moved on to the next city. She took jobs as a waitress, dishwasher, short order cook, maid, fruit picker, doing whatever that would enable her to make enough money to travel to the next place and see her through to the next job. She even did a few stints as a stripper but never resorted to selling her body for sex as a means to make money. As soon as she saved enough for a plane ticket, she went to Europe. Details of her life become a little sketchy there since it was quite a bit more difficult to keep up with her. She thought that she had escaped her father, but he had never, not once, let her go.

Georgie had no idea how her parents had really died other than that they were in a vehicle accident. Her parents died in a one car wreck because they were arguing about her. They were driving home from going out to dinner with friends when the confrontation took place. Her mother started by begging her father to stop stalking their only daughter; she had just discovered his sick obsession after logging on to their home computer to pay bills. Rather than deny that he had been tracking their daughter, he plainly refused to desist his actions. He yelled at his wife that he would never stop, that his daughter needed his protection even if she did not know it or appreciate it. He punched his wife in the face to reinforce that he was in charge and that her opinion did not matter. At that moment, something broke inside of the woman, the years of abuse had taken their toll and that punch was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Her mother, determined to release herself and her daughter from this man's reign of terror, grabbed the wheel to force the car off of the road. The car plowed into a tree at seventy miles an hour. Georgie's father died instantly. Karma, with a little help from her mother, had finally caught up with him. Her mother was thrown through the windshield and lay dying on the hood of the car. When a police officer arrived on the scene, she told him the whole story of what had happened. The policeman included every detail in his report. The original report disappeared from the city record in a hacking incident. A revised traffic accident report was written by the Chief of Police himself. The original report had been seized by the Pentagon and locked away in the archives of a government computer system so no one would ever know the truth about the Colonel. Georgie's father received a military funeral, buried with honors and given a twenty one gun salute. His daughter had been left with a flag and a mountain of debt he had made by following her every move. It had been expensive to hire private investigators and computer hackers with criminal records to hunt her down. By using his own money and getting loans to finance his relentless pursuit of her, he had hidden his shameful secret. Unable to employ the extensive, and free, government resources available to him, he had ruined himself financially.

Anthony Rester laced his fingers behind his neck, leaning back in his desk chair. He would continue the cover up the government had started of what kind of man Colonel Lathrop had really been. The Pentagon was concerned about covering their asses. It would cause an embarrassing scandal for the people to learn that the government had employed a terrifying control freak who physically abused and emotionally tortured his own family. How could such a man be an integral part of the safety and security of a nation? On a more personal level, the truth would devastate Georgie. Rester was more concerned about her well being. He believed it would be too much for her to handle if she knew what her father had done and how her parents really died. He would do his best to keep the truth buried with her father. What she did not know would not hurt her. For over a decade, he had spent his life protecting those he viewed as innocent souls. Near, the genius detective, was the one he had shielded from the serial murderer Kira. Georgie would be the one he protected from an equally deadly family secret.


	5. Chapter 5

Georgie yawned as she jogged down the stairs to cook breakfast. Time to begin another day. She and Near had established a relaxed daily routine that satisfied his need for privacy and her need for freedom. For the first time in her life, everything was peaceful, quiet - predictable. She was not sure how she felt about that just yet. For years she had lived from minute to minute, hour to hour, not knowing what was going to happen next. Over the last two days she had felt antsy, but she kept telling herself it was because all of this was still so new. Stability had never been a part of her life. But she wanted it to be.

Georgie, still half asleep and bleary eyed, went straight to the coffee pot she had set to brew last night before she went to bed. The coffee pot had been a necessity. Unable to bear another day of horrible, tar like coffee from the neighborhood convenience store, she had dragged Near to the mall two days ago so she could buy the coffee pot. However, the home of domestic gadgets galore was the only store they had visited before he had officially declared the shopping trip over. Accustomed to years of silence and solace, the myriads of impatient housewives, crying children, and rude store employees had been something he could tolerate only for a short time. Oh, well. Baby steps. Suddenly being thrust into society after leading a life of protective seclusion had to be overwhelming, wearing him out mentally, and although he didn't show it, emotionally. She reached for the mug she had set by the coffee pot, but it was not there. Maybe she had only thought she had gotten one out of the cabinet. She opened the cabinet door to see an empty spot for the missing plain white mug. Perplexed, but needing caffeine before being fully capable of thinking, she took out another cup and grabbed the pot. It was half empty. How odd. She distinctly remembered filling the water reservoir to make a whole pot.

"What the hell is going on?" she mumbled to herself as she poured her coffee. Ducking into the refrigerator, she took out the carton of half and half she had bought last night. It had already been opened. Near didn't drink coffee so who had used it?

Georgie stuck a spoon in her cup and began to stir, distracted by trying to figure out the mystery of what was going on. Upon turning around, she gasped and almost dropped her perfect cup of coffee. She would have been so upset had she spilled her black gold. The mystery had been solved at least. A nonplussed and slightly amused Agent Rester was sitting at the table calmly drinking coffee, from a white mug no doubt, as if he belonged there.

"Good morning, sir," she said with forced politeness. "Apparently, our house is your house."

"Our house?" he questioned her, raising one blond eyebrow inquisitively.

"I live here too right? Last time I checked, this was not a temporary job," she retorted, unable to hide her aggravation.

"I suppose not. You two seem to be getting along well. It's been two weeks, and I haven't heard a single complaint from either party. I have taken that as a good sign," he remarked, finishing off his cup of coffee. "This is really good coffee."

"Glad you like it. I ground the beans myself with a mortar and pestle just last night before setting up the machine to brew," she told him, taking a sip. "Using such a crude method rather than some fancy electric grinder crushes the beans gently and releases the oils more naturally giving it a much better flavor."

"Really?" He appeared genuinely surprised, his big blue eyes opening wide.

"No. I'm lying." She chuckled lightly, standing up to get the pot in order to refill his cup. "I did open the bag and pour the already ground coffee into the canister though."

"Oh, you're a funny one aren't you?" He raised the mug to his lips before she could see if he was smiling or not.

"I like to think so. What brings you here so early?"

"My car," he replied without the hint of a smile.

"Wow, that was amazing. I can tell you've worked with Near for a very long. The two of you share the same sense of humor."

"I saw your request for more money. You were even kind enough to list exactly what it was for and how much each item cost. That was pretty impressive," he commented with genuine admiration. He sat his briefcase on the table, opening it to retrieve the envelope of money. "Your paycheck is in there as well. In cash."

"Ooooh, sweet," she murmured, ripping open the envelope.

"How are things between you two? Really," he added, putting on an official 'dad' air.

Commander Dad. Georgie smiled at the thought.

"We're getting along fine. He's really a sweet kid, I mean, man," she corrected herself. "Sometimes it's easy to forget that he is a grown up. He still looks like a child and sometimes acts it too."

"Does that bother you?" He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table holding his hands over his mouth.

To Georgie it seemed he was willing himself to be quiet, to not defend Near until he had heard her through. "No, it doesn't bother me. It's because he's been sheltered, kept in a...in a _canned_ environment. He's still trying to figure it all out. Besides, I can't tell you how many times I've seen supposedly grown, mature men breakdown into a tantrum like a two year old over losing a video game or if their football team misses a winning goal."

"Hmmmm, that's true," he agreed thoughtfully. He studied her over the top of his mug as he took another drink. "You really should think about finishing your degree in psychology."

"How did you - " Of course he knew about that. How would he NOT know? "Why should I finish it? It's a meaningless piece of paper. I learned about the psyche of humans from the best teachers on earth...people, hundreds of them, that I have encountered in my life. I've spent many years in the best classroom, the world itself. Nothing is more precious than that education."

"I suppose you're right," he responded flatly, taking a stack of files out of the briefcase. After setting them on the table, he lined up three black USB drives across the top. "Make sure Near gets this."

"Am I allowed to see any of this?" she inquired, laying her hand on top of it all.

"How deep do you really want to go?" he asked her, keeping his eyes on hers.

Georgie found Agent Rester intimidating, almost scary, but she stubbornly held his gaze without wavering. "At the moment, I've gone about as deep as I can stand on a personal level without drowning. Tending to the house and Near's every need can be quite tiring no matter how much I enjoy doing it. Professionally, I trust Near as my boss to set my boundaries where my work responsibilities are concerned. At this time, it is not part of my job to view this information. I refuse to go any further unless Near allows me to do so. "

This time Agent Anthony Rester smiled without holding back. "You don't seem like the type of person who takes orders so easily."

"I'm not. As of yet, I haven't been ordered to do, or not do, anything. Near makes requests, not demands. I am not a soldier or a government agent, Mr. Rester, please don't forget that," she said, her tone low but bordering on hostile.

"Miss Lathrop, I know you are not a soldier," he paused, before saying another word. He was about to mention an extremely sensitive subject to her to see how she would react. He would soon find out if she had learned anything from Near in the area of emotional restraint. "But your father was...wasn't he?" he said, noticing that her whole demeanor instantly changed. She grew pale and her eyes widened with what he would deem fear. Even though the man had been dead for two years and it had been many years before that since she had seen her father, just the mere mention of him could strike fear into her heart. After what he had read in those files and seeing the pictures of her that had been taken at the hospital, he was not surprised.

Georgie held her tongue, gritting her teeth and holding back the tears that burned the backs of her eyeballs. She could not allow a ghost of her past to haunt her present. After taking a deep breath, she spoke. "Yes. Yes, he was."

"Good thing you're nothing like him," Rester said, patting her shoulder gently. The words and gesture seemed to offer her comfort and ease her strained nerves. "You're doing a great job, Georgie. Things are working out here much better than I had hoped."

Georgie visibly relaxed, releasing the breath that she had been holding. Still feeling a little shaken, she also felt happy because of the compliment he had given her. That was something her father had never done. She sighed. She could no longer run from the memory of her father. It was time to stop. She lay her hand on top of the files on the table in front of her. "Near is in his office at the moment. Would you like to take these up to him yourself?"

"That won't be necessary. You're more than capable of handling this. It's important that you establish your working relationship with him as you, and him, see fit." After emptying his cup, he stood to place it in the sink. Closing and locking the lid of the briefcase signified that he was about to leave.

"Agent Rester, exactly what kind of relationship are you hoping Near and I will establish here?" Her eyes held his for a moment before he took the briefcase in hand and walked toward the staircase.

"That question can only be answered by the two of you," he responded cryptically, disappearing down the steps.

When she heard the front door close, Georgie allowed her head to drop forward onto the table. What was she doing here? Her forehead contacted the shiny olive green formica surface making a hollow 'thunk' sound.

"Ow!" she yelled, popping up to rub the aching spot in the middle of her forehead.

"What was that sound?" Near inquired, appearing in the kitchen.

"The sound of my brain breaking," she muttered, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Oh? I thought it was the front door closing," he rejoined sedately, opening the refrigerator to grab the orange juice bottle.

"Agent Rester stopped by to drop these off for you." She patted the stack of materials with her hand.

"I'll take them up to my office after breakfast. What are you cooking?"

"I don't know. Would you want to do the drive through thing again and picnic in the park?"

"Sure," he agreed passively, pouring himself a tall glass of orange juice. He took another glass out of the cabinet, one of the cutesy ones she had picked out embellished with hand painted orange halves and quarters on them. After filling the glass that was a third of the size of his, he set it on the table in front of her next to her coffee cup.

"Coffee has its health benefits too you know," she mumbled irritably, picking up the small glass of orange juice.

"You're taking care of me. Is it so bad that I would like to take care of you as well?" He leaned against the counter to drink his juice.

Georgie took a long sip of the juice before standing up on shaky legs to walk over to him. She put her arms around him, giving him a hug. His arm remained stiffly by his side, the other poised half way to his mouth with the glass of juice in his hand.

"What's this?" he asked, setting the glass on the counter.

"It's called a hug," she answered, squeezing him briefly. She allowed her arms to drop, stepping back from him to give him a nervous smile.

"I know that but why?" He reached out to touch her face, scooping up the single teardrop that leaked from her eye with the tip of his finger. He gazed at the tear briefly then wiped it on the leg of his faded jeans. "Why are you crying? Did I say or do something wrong?"

"No. Definitely not," she chuckled, reaching out to fiddle with the collar of the light blue shirt he was wearing. She wanted to hug him again but was not sure if she should. He did not seem to be one given to receiving displays of physical affection - and definitely not giving them. "You did something very right. That was just really...sweet."

"What does that mean?" His eyes studied her face before he extended his hand to touch her cheek.

Georgie resisted the desire to close her eyes and sigh when he stroked her skin. His fingertips were soft and smooth, giving her the lightest most tempting touch. His fingers drifted toward her ear, tracing the curve of her jaw then cupping it in his palm. She kept her eyes locked on his, smiling at him but hoping she was not grinning like a total idiot. Her hands pressed against his slender chest as she leaned toward him slightly.

"To be sweet means you're kind and thoughtful. You make me feel..." She paused, lowering her eyes to stare at the floor. It embarrassed her that he had made her heart skip a beat and nearly made her melt. She had not felt anything like this in a long, long time. "Happy."

"Happy," he repeated as if pondering the true meaning of the word.

A vicious growl from her empty belly invading the tense, emotionally charged silence growing between them.

"Do you know what would make me happy now?" she asked, giving him a silly grin when his eyes met hers again.

"Food?" He smiled at her when she nodded enthusiastically. "Go get your shoes. Let's go."

"Hey, that's my line!"


	6. Chapter 6

Georgie found a map of the entire community while rummaging through the kitchen drawers. Groups of condominiums, apartment buildings, and private homes were included in the various types of housing located within the guarded gates. She wondered if the residents were all government employees and their families. Sidewalks wound through the area, crisscrossing back and forth so people could easily walk anywhere without ever having to walk on the street except at clearly marked crosswalks. Safety first. There was a full service gym, a convenience store with two gas pumps, and a small grocery store on the property. There was even a small strip mall that included a salon, an arcade, and a coffee shop. It was like a city within a city. There were several pools, each located strategically within each group of living spaces. There was one here in the middle of the circle of condominiums.

"Awesome," she breathed to herself, putting the map back into the drawer. She had been spending the day going through every drawer and shelf in the kitchen to take stock of the contents. Tomorrow she would go shopping. There never seemed to be a free minute around here. Not that she was complaining. Staying busy kept her mind occupied as well as her body. At the moment, she planned on going swimming to relax a little. Running up to the study/library across from Near's office, she knocked on the door. She still did not feel comfortable opening a closed door without knocking first. He, however, did not share her sentiment. She had awakened a few more times to owl-man staring at her. His quirkiness both irritated and amused her.

"Come in," he invited her with professional courtesy.

Georgie found him sitting on the floor on the round, blue and white, hand-braided rug in his typical weird position with one leg drawn up to his chest and the other flat on the floor and curled beside him. She glanced around the room since she had not been in here before. She had been too busy painting her room and decorating it in addition to the the other housework to explore the house completely. Several hours of her days were spent shuffling folders full of papers and USB drives full of more information between Near and Agent Rester at the Bureau building as well which meant she was always going to his office instead of coming in here. Apparently he had decided to take a day off for rest and relaxation and was putting a jigsaw puzzle together. Definitely not her idea of relaxing but to each person their own. She diverted her attention back to the room since he was focused on his puzzle. There were plain wooden bookcases lining two walls from floor to ceiling, creating a tunnel like corridor in the room from the door to the back wall where there was a seat built into the huge bay window. She had always wanted one of those growing up; a cozy little nook perfect for sitting in and reading all day - or night. The only thing that could keep her sitting still for hours on end was a good book. Oh, and books! Lots of them. The shelves on one side of the room held books, hundreds, possibly thousands, of them. On the other side, the shelves contained an eclectic and unusual assortment of items. There were dozens of action figures striking heroic poses, some holding minuscule weapons. Finger puppets sat on little wooden stands. She believed she recognized a few of them as being likenesses in felt material of the real live agents who were Near's coworkers, friends, and chosen family. Clear, cylindrical glass vases lined one shelf. Each one was full of a certain kind of die such as the classic six sided white cubes with black dots to unusual twenty sided die used for role playing games. One whole bookcase held box after box of jigsaw puzzles. She glanced back at the puzzle he was working on; a pretty scene of a white wolf in the middle of a snow covered forest clearing. How did he make all of those white pieces fit together?

"Did you want something?" Near asked, his voice low and monotone as usual. He always seemed so patient, so calm. She liked that about him. His voice stilled her mind and her body when she felt anxious.

"Oh, yeah, I'm going to the pool. Want to go for a swim with me?" she inquired, her eyes scanning the spines of the books to read the titles. "Do you mind if I come in here and read?"

"I thought you wanted to go swimming," he murmured, pushing an all white jigsaw piece into it's proper place.

"I do. I was just asking for future reference."

"Sure. This is your home too you know. The only place I prefer you not walk about freely is in my office. You're only allowed in there with my permission."

"Yes, I'm aware, sir," she returned stiffly. Her eyebrow cocked inquiringly when his gaze moved from the puzzle to her. "Sooooo..." She fidgeted nervously until his eyes turned back to the puzzle. After watching him place another puzzle piece, she asked, "Do you want to go swimming?"

"No. I don't want to go swimming," he answered curtly without moving his eyes from the puzzle again.

"Okay. I'm off to get changed and go to the pool," she announced, grabbing the knob of the door on her way out. "Want me to close the door behind me?"

"No, it's fine. Leave it open."

Georgie smiled. An open door. Usually he kept every door in the house closed. She would like to think this was a sign that he was beginning to open up to her, to trust her. Her bare feet made slapping sounds against the smooth, highly varnished wooden steps as she ran up them to her room. After changing into her cerulean blue one piece swimsuit with a big circle cut out from across the belly, almost making it a two piece swimsuit, she grabbed a towel and was on her way to the pool. She did not have sunscreen. That would be another thing to add to the constantly growing list of things to buy. However, her skin kept a perpetual light tan, and she did not plan on being out for very long either so sunburn should not be a problem. All she wanted to do was cool off and swim a few laps. When she arrived at the large rectangular shaped pool, she was the only one there. She was happy to see that the pool was not one of those typical apartment complex pools, too small and barely fit for one person to paddle around in. Without even slowing down, she tossed her towel onto a plastic lounger as she jogged past then extended her arms to execute a simple but flawless dive into the blue water. It was cold and refreshing and felt absolutely fantastic. She continued to swim under the water until she reached the other end of the pool. Breaking above the surface, she inhaled air into her needy lungs. She swam a few laps, then flipped over onto her back to lazily float around. Her muscles burned a little bit, just enough to let her know she had given herself a good work out. She got out of the pool to dry out in the sun before returning to the condo. After spreading her towel across the lounger, she settled back, luxuriating in the warmth that eased away the ache from her muscles.

"Miss Lathrop?" a male voice she did not recognize inquired.

Georgie jumped, being startled that someone would call her name. Who could possibly know her here? She opened one eye, holding her hand to her forehead in a salute to the sun in an attempt to block the blinding rays from her eyes. A handsome face surrounded by short and purposely ruffled black hair loomed over her. Two sparkling blue eyes the same color as the sky above them mirrored the smile set on the lips that parted to show two rows of straight white teeth. The other agent from the meeting, the one who had never spoken a word while she was in the room, Stephen Gevanni, was standing over her.

"Oh, Mr. Gevanni, how nice to see you," she greeted him, her eyes quickly moving over his body to see that he was shirtless and wearing a pair of boarding shorts that were navy blue and covered with a pattern of large green tropical leaves. Yes, it was very nice to see him. He hid a fabulously toned, lightly tanned body under those conservative suits he wore. "What are you doing here? Besides, the obvious of course. It is a beautiful day for a swim."

"I live here," he answered, sitting down on the lounger next to the one she had sprawled across. "This place was built specifically for government employees."

That little tidbit of information came as no surprise. It was confirmation of what she had already surmised.

"What do you think of Near? Do you think he's strange? Perhaps a little weird?" he questioned her.

Georgie could tell that he was trying to elicit an honest and unguarded opinion for his own personal reasons. From the beginning she had developed this sense that she was joining something special, becoming a new member of a family more so than taking a job. This man could be viewed as a protective older brother, or perhaps a concerned uncle. He did not seem as emotionally invested as Agents Rester and Lidner, but he definitely cared a great deal about Near. She knew that he would never refer to Near as strange or weird unless he was fishing for information. He had winced ever so slightly when the words had come out of his mouth as if it had hurt him to say them. They were all still testing her. She would be glad when she no longer felt like an outsider; when the family, especially Near, trusted and accepted her as one of their own.

"Strange isn't the word I would use. It has a negative connotation. And definitely not weird. Maybe...eccentric," she said, watching his body visibly relax. She hoped he was not always so unguarded with his physical reactions to his thoughts. However, he was a behind the scenes guy, the one who operated without anyone ever seeing him. "Near is definitely different. But in a good way. He's not like any other man, well, any person, male or female, that I've ever met. And that's a _very_ good thing. He doesn't speak a lot, but that's all right. He never pretends, puts on fake smiles or says meaningless words. He doesn't hide what he really thinks like most of us. I admire that about him. Although he can be a little abrupt, and well, let's face it rude, I don't really mind. All and all, I'd say he's really not that much different, or any more odd, than any other person on this earth. He's just more honest than most."

"You're right," he agreed, closing his eyes before he raised his face to the sun.

Georgie sighed with relief when saw a smile playing at the edge of his lips. Perhaps Near had the right idea about being completely candid, not mincing words or actions. She liked this whole honesty thing. It was a first in her life. She had learned early on that people lie. Not all lies were outright deceptions in words. Some were plain omissions by choice. Others were falsehoods in actions - or lack of action. People hide things and pretend some things don't exist - from themselves and others. Like her mother. Her mother hid her father's monstrous side from the world. To everyone on the outside looking in, they were a good family, a happy family. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

"I suppose I better be going. I told Near that I wouldn't be gone long, and it is lunch time," Georgie proclaimed, standing up from the lounger. She wrapped the towel around her body, twisting it into a knot under her right arm to hold it closed. "Why don't you come have dinner with us sometime? I'm sure Near would enjoy having someone besides me for company for a change."

"Just let me know when, and I'll be there," he told her, lacing his fingers behind his head to relax in the sun.

"Okay. Well, talk to you later." With a little wave, she was off to return to the condominium. Her mind immediately began planning what she would fix for lunch. There was leftover chicken from last night so she decided to make chicken salad sandwiches.

Goosebumps immediately raised to the surface of her skin over her entire body upon walking inside the air conditioned building so she went upstairs to take a hot shower. She had just finished rinsing the shampoo out of her hair when she turned to see a shadow standing on the other side of the frosted white shower curtain. Pulling back the edge of the curtain, she peered out to see Near casually standing there as if he belonged in that spot. Was he a secret pervert hiding behind an innocent facade?

"I'm hungry. Are we going to eat soon?" he asked her in his typical forthright manner.

Of course he wasn't there to be a pervert. Georgie found herself almost disappointed and the tiniest bit offended that he had not been there to sneak a peek at her naked body. Such thoughts confused and annoyed her. Grumbling in aggravation at herself, and at him, for the sum total of the bizarre thoughts and emotions mixing inside of her, she shut the curtain to finish her shower.

"Georgie?" he called, still standing there.

She refused to answer him out of pure stubbornness. Whatever he had to say to her could wait. He was like an impatient child.

"Georgie!" Near exclaimed, jerking back the shower curtain.

"Near!" she yelled back without even attempting to cover her naked body. What would be the point? He had already seen her anyway. Her arms hung loosely at her sides as his eyes drifted from the top of her head down to her feet then back up again to stop at her breasts.

"Can I drink the rest of the chocolate milk?"

Georgie started laughing. She couldn't help it. And she couldn't stop laughing. His eyes finally raised from her breasts to focus on her face when she snorted because she was losing her breath from laughing so hard. Milk. He had to ask about milk, of all things, while staring at her breasts. He wasn't being dirty and was thoroughly confused as to why she was laughing which made it that much funnier to her. Tears were streaming from her eyes, but he could not tell because of the water that was splashing in her face.

"Oh, good God," she murmured, struggling to breathe. "Yes, Near, you can drink the rest of the chocolate milk. We can walk to the grocery store later to buy some."

"Okay," he rejoined, staring at her as if she lost her mind.

Before Georgie could close the shower curtain, Near's hands shot out, covering her breasts. She yelped in surprise but did not slap his hands away. His cool, soft fingers pressed and squeezed gently, moving around her breasts in an exploratory manner.

"What do you think you're doing?" she inquired patiently, blowing out air in an attempt to convey her vexation. Okay, now he was being strange. Negative connotation and all.

"I just wanted to know what they felt like," he answered matter of factly. "I've seen many women's breasts, but I've never touched them before."

"Oh, you've seen plenty have you? In pictures?" she challenged, watching his fair cheeks turn a bright rosy pink.

"No. On a camera feed during surveillance," he admitted reluctantly, squeezing her breasts.

Georgie bit her lower lip to refrain from gasping when his thumbs moved across her nipples caressing them to stiff peaks that sent warm tingles ricocheting throughout her body. The tingles of excitement rippled across her nerve endings and gathered into a knot of desire in the pit of her stomach. His touch had gone from clinical, as exciting as being felt up by her gynecologist during the perfunctory breast exam at her yearly female check up, to something much, much more arousing.

"Near, you have to stop. So if you don't mind..." She put her hands over his to carefully peel them away from her breasts.

"I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry," he apologized, hiding his hands behind his back. He wasn't so innocent that he didn't know it was wrong to grope a woman without her permission.

Georgie could not be upset with him. At the moment, Near looked like a naughty but embarrassed child.

"I just...I just wanted to know what they felt like."

"Well, there's a time and a place for that sort of thing. Now and here is neither," she said, closing the curtain to finish her shower.

"Are you angry with me?" he asked, not moving from where he stood on the other side of the curtain.

"No," she replied, her voice a little too high pitched. She was not angry with him. Hell, she had experienced much worse from total strangers in bars when she had been a waitress.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No, Near. You didn't do anything wrong." Because he hadn't. He had been curious, that's all. Being what he is, the thought had not occurred to him that it was totally improper to touch her such a manner before curiosity taken over. He shouldn't do such things. At least not this early in their relationship. But this was not supposed to be _that_ kind of relationship. Or was it? She sighed, shoving her head under the water. She did feel slightly disturbed because she had wanted him to continue, to do more. Exhaling noisily in frustration, she turned the handle of the faucet toward cold.

"Georgie?"

 _Oh, god, Near, please go,_ she begged him silently, leaning her forehead against the water cooled tiles of the shower wall.

"I'm glad you don't have implants. Implants are really dangerous. Silicone is the worst. If the silicone leaks, it can slowly poison you until it shuts down your system. Saline ones are not much safer really. Not to mention the complications that can arise from surgery." He continued talking, but she was no longer listening to him.

"Near, get out!" she yelled, hurling the bar of soap over the curtain rod in the general direction of his silhouette. Suddenly a giggle bubbled up from inside of her. In an attempt to hold back the laughter, she snorted and coughed but in the end she continued giggling like an insane idiot anyway. What else could she do to cope with what had just happened? She doubted she would ever truly understand him. He could be a mystery even to himself for all she knew.

Once Georgie finished her shower and dressed, she found Near in the study reading. She tried not to feel self-conscious when he looked at her. She had dressed in a long turquoise skirt with a white tank top for their trip to the grocery store. Her clothing was no different than how she usually dressed but she felt exposed, naked, under his quiet scrutiny.

"Come on. We're going to the store to buy that chocolate milk," she announced, repositioning her purse on her shoulder as if to emphasize her point.

"I thought _you_ were going to the store," he said, his eyebrows drawing together over his nose in annoyance.

"No. _You_ finished the milk. You can come with me, you little pig," she snapped, growing irritated.

"But you said I could finish the milk," he protested, dropping the book when she stomped toward him with a speed and ferocity he had not expected.

"You are going to the grocery store with me. I want you to pick out something for dinner. You're going to start being a more active player in this thing we call life, especially your own. Let's go," she insisted, taking him by the hand to pull him out of the puffy blue chair.

"Can I at least get my shoes on?" he asked, snatching his hand out of hers.

"Hurry, hurry," she ordered him, clapping at him as if she were shooing off a reluctant child. "We're going to the neighborhood store so we're walking."

"Ugh," he groaned. "I don't wanna go!"

"Get your damn shoes on!"

Near plodded along slowly behind her like an angry stubborn kid as they walked to the store. It was only a few blocks away, and they had shaded sidewalks to stroll along the whole way. He continued to pout through the grocery store. She could hardly believe this was the same person who had inadvertently turned her on earlier. He obstinately kept his mouth shut as she prodded him for suggestions or asked him to make choices between two items. Now, she was getting angry with him.

The candy aisle. Surely this would cheer him up. It was working for her anyway. She loved browsing the colorful boxes and bags of sugary delights, especially the chocolate. After picking up a package of six full sized chocolate bars, she noticed the boxes of candy that looked like the same ones sold in movie theaters for outrageous prices. Those particular boxes of candy gave her an idea: movie night. Candy, popcorn, hot dogs, nachos; stuffing their faces with all of the junk food they could stand while they watched a movie. She did not bother asking for any input from Near. Besides, she had decided on what to do for dinner.

"I thought you said I was picking out what to have for dinner," he grumbled when they were at the check out counter.

"You missed your chance, Mr. Poutypants," she retorted, placing the items he handed to her on the conveyor belt.

"Did you intend for that to rhyme?"

"Yes, yes, I did." It was a happy accident that the statement had rhymed but he didn't need to know that. "I'll let you pick the movie."

"Movie?"

"You've never watched a movie?"

"No."

"There's a first time for everything." Today had already proved that statement with absolute certainty.

~...~

Georgie leaned back on the couch, rubbing her overly full belly. The living room was a mess. The square, blocky brown coffee table was covered in dirty dishes with crumbs scattered all in between. Chocolate bar wrappers and empty candy boxes were strewn across the floor in front of the couch. Near was sitting at the opposite end of the couch from Georgie, holding one of the large square pumpkin orange pillows in his lap. She had used a round olive green one to prop herself up because she was too stuffed with junk food to lie down. They were on a movie binge as well. The first movie had been an action/adventure flick set in space. The second was a B grade horror movie with laughable, low budget special effects and acting so bad it was the most terrifying thing in the movie. They were about to start another movie, a romance, at his request. It was a little after midnight and way past her usual bedtime of ten. Although she was tired, she wanted to stay up to watch it with him. The last thing she wanted on her mind before she went to bed was that appalling slasher flick.

"You can go to bed if you like. I don't mind watching it alone," Near told her when she yawned, making a groaning sound.

"Nah, I'm good," she returned, rubbing her burning eyes. She was curious about the movie herself. Despite being put in the romance category, it sounded more like soft porn flick from the description. She could not in good conscience leave Near alone and unsupervised to watch such a thing. He might have questions that she needed to answer. A smile flitted across her lips like a phantom as she thought about the little interaction in the shower earlier. She chastised herself for being a lecher. Catching a glimpse of Near as he stared wide eyed at the television screen, she felt like a raging pervert. He was her boss for God's sake. What the hell was she thinking? She gave the movie her full attention about the time the first sex scene rolled around. The male character was dressed like a doctor, and they were in what looked to be an ordinary clinic examination room. The woman was instructed to take off her shirt and bra. Once she was naked from the waist up, the doctor began his examination which pretty much mimicked what Near had done to her. Georgie grabbed another pillow to hide her face as the doctor performed a little mouth to mouth on his patient who was definitely in no distress. "Oh, dear..." she murmured, peeking above the pillow. Her face felt as if it were about to burst into flames from embarrassment. "Near, I think we should turn this off."

Near was staring so intently at the screen, she doubted that he had heard her. Georgie reached for the remote, but her wrist was seized by the man-child whose eyes were as big as platters. His head slowly turned and his eyes captured hers. He appeared to be horrified and bewildered. She could not look away from his gaze no matter how much she wanted to as he stared at her.

"You know what Georgie," he began in a loud whisper, squeezing her wrist, "I don't think that man is really a doctor at all."

"Wh-what?" she stammered before bursting into gales of wailing laughter.

"I don't understand," he said, moving closer to her. "Why do you keep laughing at me?"

"Oh, Near, I'm sorry," she apologized, quickly sobering because of the abundance of emotion that filtered into his gray eyes. A storm raged inside of him and it showed in his eyes. He felt angry, befuddled, and hurt - possibly betrayed. She was supposed to care about him, not be making fun of him. Her fingers pushed back the tendrils of snowy hair that framed his face. Her eyes delved a little deeper into his to find something else, something unexpected - desire. He bumfuzzled her and set her nerves on edge. Sometimes he was such a hopeless child. Other times, like now, she could see him for what he is - a man. His expression softened, his eyes growing misty like a foggy morning. Her eyes lowered to his lips that were parted - and shockingly close to hers. Her chest felt tight as if the air was being squeezed out of her lungs.

"Georgie, I don't know what to do. Help me," he implored her, the fingertips of his hand coming to rest on her cheek while his other hand still gripped her wrist.

So far he was doing fantastic. Georgie gulped, momentarily closing her eyes while her mouth dropped open for her to speak. "What do you _feel_ you should do? What do you _want_ to do?"

Near hesitated. He did not move, but he was breathing hard. His breathe wafted across her face, warming her lips. She opened her eyes, gazing into his.

"Don't think. Just act on what you feel," she urged him, allowing her eyelids to gradually lower as his mouth touched hers. The kiss was soft, unsure, but heartfelt and stimulating. And brief. Their eyes met momentarily as he pulled back from her. He looked even more confused, and lost in his thoughts. Georgie watched him swiftly move away from her and rise from the couch to walk to the stairs. Had he rejected her? Had he been afraid? She was not sure what had happened. She tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat when he paused at the bottom of the stairs.

"Good night, Georgie," he called without turning around.

"Good night, Near," she croaked in return.

Georgie watched him ascend the stairs. Once he was out of sight, she fell back on the couch, allowing the breath she had been holding to be pushed out of her lungs in a noisy gush. She hugged the orange pillow he had been holding to her chest, staring at the ceiling where the shadows of the night danced with the blue and white lights from the pictures moving on the television screen. Near had given her a good night kiss. Her fingers moved across her tingling lips, replaying the tender kiss in her head. It had been sweet. Just like him. Was that his first kiss? _Good night, Georgie._ She doubted she would sleep much tonight.


	7. Chapter 7

Georgie reluctantly opened her eyes. Just as she had predicted, her sleep had been fitful and not rejuvenating in the least. She stared blankly at the ceiling trying to push the remnants of the erotic dream she had been having been from her mind. All night long she had been tortured with sexually charged fantasies about her boss. She wanted to taste his lips again, experiencing a deeper, more passionate kiss than an innocent goodnight peck. In real life she had felt his hands on her breasts but in her sensual nocturnal musings he had used his lips and his tongue to satisfy his curiosity. His hands and his fingers had not remained idle but had explored every inch of her body including plunging the intimate depths of her being. A headache throbbed behind her eyes so she closed them again.

"Oh, god," she groaned, laying her arm over her eyes. She wanted to block out the harsh reality of craving sex so badly her entire body ached. And not only did she want sex, but she yearned for the emotional attachment, the sharing of genuine emotions. Perhaps the idea of sharing sincere affection was what bothered her the most. She had not loved a man since her fiance. Sometimes she doubted if she had ever truly loved him. She wondered if she knew the meaning of love, _real_ love. Her parents had not been a healthy example of love in the way they cared for her and certainly not in the way they 'loved' each other. The bond with her fiance had been desperate, contrived, and forced. That could not be the true definition of love either. So what did it mean? She felt something for Near: a warmhearted, tender devotion that compelled her to do things for him, to want to help him, and to be close to him. Could that be love? "Dammit, I don't know."

"You don't know what?" Near asked.

"Jesus," Georgie gasped, her whole body tensing and convulsing in surprise. She turned her head to see him sitting right next to her bed on top of the stool that served as a desk chair.

"I brought you some coffee," he announced, extending the white mug toward her with both of his hands wrapped around it to hold it securely.

 _Great! Just what I need. Something else to make my heart beat faster,_ she thought to herself as a smile formed on her lips. After sitting up, she reached out for the mug placing her hands over his. "Thank you."

"Are you all right?" he inquired, carefully sliding one hand from under hers. When he was sure she had a good grip on the handle of the cup, he removed his other hand.

"I'm fine," she answered in a rush.

Georgie concentrated on the steaming liquid in the cup. He had added enough cream to turn the black coffee a warm golden brown color. Tentatively taking a sip, she sighed with satisfaction. Perfect! He had added the exact amount of cream to suit her taste buds. A warm sensation, not caused by the coffee, flooded her chest and made her belly quiver. She had no idea he had paid any attention to how she took her coffee.

"Oh, Near, this wonderful," she complimented him, seeing the corners of his mouth lift up ever so slightly. "This is absolute perfection. Thank you."

"I was worried when you didn't get up at your usual time," he said, leaning forward to place his hands on the bed.

"What time is it?" she questioned him casually, taking another sip of the coffee. Her headache was starting to subside. She avoided looking at him because he was staring at her so intently in his typical unreserved manner that could arouse discomfort in the most confident individual.

"It was after ten o' clock before I came up here," he replied calmly, his eyes studying her face.

"Oh, damn! It's so late!" she exclaimed, almost dropping her mug. She was usually awake no later than seven. Throwing back the covers, she scooted out of the bed while keeping a tight grip on her mug with one hand.

"If you're not feeling well, you don't have to get up." He stood up from her backless desk chair where he had been perched like a big snowy owl.

"I'm fine. I just didn't sleep well. I can't believe I overslept!" She sat her cup down on the desk before scurrying into the bathroom. After completing the basics including giving her face and teeth a quick scrub, she ran back into the bedroom to dress. The realization that Near was still in the room penetrated her muddled brain just in time to prevent her from snatching her t-shirt over her head. She glanced at him sitting in the middle of her bed in a half crouching position. "Do you mind?"

"I don't mind at all. Go ahead," he prompted her with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Near," Georgie groaned. This man was accustomed to invading people's privacy, observing their most secretive moments, usually through the lens of a camera. He was making it abundantly clear that he did not understand the meaning of privacy. At the moment, she was in no mood to explain why she needed him to leave so she could change. Turning her back to him while standing in front of her closet, she pulled off her shirt. If she wore a dress, she could pull it over her head then take off her fuzzy sleep shorts without him ever seeing a thing except for her bare back. As she reached for a plain white sundress with thin straps, she froze. Suddenly she could sense him right behind her. He was not touching her, but she could feel the heat, the closeness of his body, as if he were pressed against her.

"Don't move," he whispered in her ear.

Georgie flinched when his cool, smooth hand touched her back. She bit her lower lip to hold in the cry of protest when his fingers moved along one of the diagonal scars across her back. She had forgotten about the scars. They were a part of her and had been for a very long time so she had completely forgotten they had faded to shiny, light pink lines across her skin. The marks had not completely disappeared and the emotional scars never would either. A whimper pushed past the barricade of her teeth and lips when he pressed a kiss to the longest and widest mark that bisected her right shoulder blade. His lips were so soft, the tender gesture so heart rending, her knees weakened. She hoped that he did not ask her how she got those scars. She did not want to have to tell him that when she was sixteen years old she arrived home exactly seven minutes late for her midnight curfew one Friday night. Her best friend really did have a flat tire on her car as they were coming home from the movie theater. But her father would not listen. He had beat her with the buckle of his leather belt rather than the strap. The prong of the buckle had torn apart her shirt and ripped through her skin. He did not stop hitting her until she fainted from the pain and blood loss. She had not been allowed to go to the hospital to receive treatment and a few of the deepest cuts had healed clumsily leaving behind permanent marks.

"Near, please," she begged, when he continued to kiss each streak of shiny pink flesh that attested to the agony she had endured. Her long hair or her shirts usually kept the scars covered.

"Does it still hurt?" he asked, turning her to face him.

Georgie pressed her chest to his to cover her naked breasts although it was not as if he had not seen them before. At this point in time, she doubted he would notice them anyway. His eyes were riveted to hers, holding them hostage with his dark gray ones that reflected the sadness which had settled inside of her chest. The dysphoria associated with traumatic, negative events returned to her like a familiar but unwanted acquaintance from the past. She allowed herself to be distracted by the enticing sensation of the sumptuous Egyptian cotton of his shirt rubbing against her breasts. With each breath he took, his chest expanded causing her breasts to glide across the silky material. Her hand pressed against the back of his neck, her fingers twining through the delicate curls at the nape.

"No. It doesn't hurt," she answered, her voice raspy and breathy.

"I don't mean here," he murmured, sliding one of his forefingers across her shoulder blade over the scar. His other hand lifted from her hip, pressing to her forehead. "I mean here." Removing his hand from her head, he leaned back slightly to make a space between them so he could press his palm over her heart. "And here."

"Yes. Very much," she admitted, closing her eyes to break eye contact. Her throat tightened and her eyes burned as tears gathered and tried to fall. She chewed the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood to keep the stinging, salty teardrops at bay.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, enclosing her trembling body with his arms.

"Don't apologize for something you didn't do. Never take responsibility for the mistakes of others. Only your own," she said. What he did next shocked her and took her breath away.

Georgie sighed when his lips pressed to hers. Sweet. Endearing. Tantalizing. These words described him and most definitely his kiss. Her arms moved around his waist to hold him tightly against her as his lips pressed more firmly to hers. A delightful tingling spread throughout her body when his hands drifted down her back. His fingers traced the full length of her backbone to press into the small of her back as his palms rested on her hips. She sighed into his mouth when his lips parted and his hands gripped her hips to pull her up into him. Her hipbones collided with his, bringing a moan from her that was stifled by his mouth. Her hands grasped his shoulders to hang onto him because her legs had become unsteady. A slow and gentle erotic sparring escalated their kiss from romantic to libidinous. Her mouth countered the movements of his; closing when his opened, pushing forward when he pulled back. A few times their lips met in awkward opposition with his lower lip caught between hers or his lips planted in the space between her nose and upper lip. She started giggling when his lips somehow made it down to her chin after one of their numerous parting and meetings.

"You're laughing at me again," he pouted, poking out his bottom lip.

"No," she whispered, pressing a quick kiss squarely to his mouth. "I'm laughing at both of us because we were having such a difficult time getting our lips together."

"Oh." His dark eyelashes lay against his lightly flushed cheek as he hid his eyes from her.

"You're so sweet," she murmured, raising up on her tiptoes to kiss his pretty in pink cheek. "I could fall in love with you."

"What does it mean to fall in love?" Near inquired, opening his eyes to look at her. "Is falling ever a good thing? Usually it hurts."

"Yeah, it does," she chuckled joylessly. "I...I'm not really sure what it means to fall in love," Georgie confessed, balancing her forehead against his chin. "I thought I knew. But now I'm not so sure anymore."

"Have you ever been in love?"

"I don't know," she whispered, concentrating on their closeness and the poignancy of this moment. Near had a way of surprising her, of dispelling all of her notions and assumptions about him. He seemed to enjoy proving her wrong when she thought she knew something about him. At the moment, being wrong had never felt so good.

"What does it mean to love someone?" Near whispered in her ear.

"I-I don't kn-know," she stammered, her belly quavering as his warm breath caressed her neck. She leaned back so she could look into his eyes. "I want to know. I want to learn what it means to love someone."

"Then let's find out together," he suggested, lowering his mouth back to hers for a short kiss. "Tell me what you think love means."

"I think," she began, stopping to try to rid herself of the lump that had formed in her throat. Her breaths were coming in rapid inhales through her open mouth. She was panting as his soft fingers slid up her arm to her shoulder. His gentle lips pressed an innocent kiss to her cheek as if to encourage her to continue. "I think...I think it means..." She was nervous, stalling. "To love someone, you trust them. You put them, their wants and their needs, above your own. But they do the same thing for you. Love is never selfish. It's always giving, trusting, hoping..." She inhaled sharply when his lips grazed the corner of her mouth. Oh, how she delighted in his kiss. Anticipation of another kiss from him halted her words.

"Hoping for what?" he prompted, tilting her head back with a finger under her chin. The tip of his nose grazed hers to silently prod her to speak.

"Hoping for..." She paused as his eyes gazed into hers. His eyes were hazy with sentimental emotion but sharply focused on hers. Their color seemed lighter like the muted gray sky just before the sun emerges on the horizon. In his eyes she saw a promise, a promise of something new that she had never felt before but wanted so much. "Hoping for love in return."


	8. Chapter 8

First I have to say a big THANK YOU to my beta, xfang-girlx. She saved me from publishing a highly embarrassing typo that was hilarious, but I would have hated putting that out there for everyone to read. As always, her assistance is greatly appreciated.

I would also like to offer my thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing. And last but not least, to Ronlight4, I'm glad you asked for this. My wish is that you continue to enjoy it.

* * *

Georgie was sitting in the window seat in the study reading a book. She looked over the top of the book at the clouds forming outside. Darker gray clouds had begun to mix with the light gray ones that had blocked out the sun since early morning. Rain was coming. She did not mind the rain, but she hated thunderstorms. Being aware that her fear of the lightning and thunder was childish did not prevent her from fearing it all the same. It was more what the storm represented, the memories it conjured, that she feared more than the storm itself. She shivered. One day the past would not hurt so much. One day the memories would be forgotten.

"Georgie." Near's soft voice floated to her from the doorway.

Georgie sighed in relief, closing her eyes. She loved to hear him speak her name. His voice, a low and breathy monotone was pleasing to her ears. A smile curled her lips. He was literally the voice of calm in her life. No more emotional storms. She had finally found a safe harbor. She chuckled at herself. Suddenly she was indulging in poetic nonsense. But she had lived a life obsessed with the present and full of poetic nonsense to escape the dreary reality of her past.

"Georgie? Do you hear me?" he asked when she did not answer. The strange little grin on her face made him wonder what she could be lost in thought about.

"I'm sorry. What did you need?" she asked, carefully setting the book down on the cushion of the window seat.

Near appreciated the way she respected his books. Actually she took great care to treat all of his possessions as if they were of the highest value. Yesterday, through the lens of the camera he had set up in here, he watched her thoroughly exam every item on the shelves. He had set up a few cameras to avoid freaking her out any more by watching her like a hawk in person. He found it impossible to not stare at her constantly when she was around him. The world and everything in it fascinated her. The joy she found in all things, including the mundane and often overlooked, captivated him. He guessed they were alike in the sense that they noticed the smallest details of life, the ones that other people missed. Taking note of those minute details had been what enabled him to break cases that no one else could solve. That thought reminded him why he had come in here to begin with.

"I need you to take these to Commander Rester," he said, holding out the stack of files.

"Okay," she returned, standing up from the window seat. She extended her arms for him to transfer the pile of information into them. Her eyes held his as he moved in closer; closer than necessary to hand the paperwork to her. "What are you - "

Georgie's breath caught in her throat when he pressed his lips to hers. Her fingertips rested on his cheek as he kissed her in his slow, easy way. So far Captain Cop-a-feel had not made another move to progress beyond these enjoyable, chaste kisses. She had not attempted to push the matter either by slipping her tongue into his mouth first. Permitting him to take the lead, to move forward at his own pace, was just fine with her. Besides, she felt like they were moving fast enough already.

"That's nice," she exhaled breathily when his lips lifted from hers.

"Nice?" he questioned her, his facial expression blank.

"Nice," she confirmed, kissing the tip of his nose.

"Would it be bad for me to be not so nice?" he asked, stepping back to transfer the stack of files to her.

"Oh, Near," she murmured, feeling warmth spread across her cheeks. She had imagined him more than once being not so nice but so far things remained exceptionally and disappointingly nice. "I'll be off then. Is there anything you need me to do while I'm out? Want me to pick up some Orange Chicken from Dragon's Gate?"

"Sure. Potstickers too? They're my favorite."

"Potstickers too."

"Georgie?" His fingers wrapped around her upper arm, squeezing gently. His eyes held hers with an intense expression of deep caring and genuine concern.

"What is it?"

"Be careful. Come back safely to me."

"Of course." Standing on her tiptoes, she brushed her lips across his cheek.

Georgie grabbed her purse from the kitchen table on her way out. After climbing into her jalopy, she cranked it within two tries. A new record for Old Bessie who usually took at least three turns of the key in the ignition to fire up. She wondered if she put a new car on her next acquisition request if it would be granted. It didn't have to be a _new_ new car, just new to her at least and reliable. She drove to the headquarters building, digging in her purse for her ID card as she approached the front entrance. After waving at the receptionist, she swiped her card through the scanner and walked through the metal detector. As usual, the damn thing went off with a screech.

"All right, Georgie, hand over the luggage," Bernard, the genial older security guard requested. He was always here manning the detector when she came in. Invariably, she set if off every time so he had gotten on a first name basis with her rather quickly.

"Oh, Bernie, it's the same old stuff," she sighed, setting the files down on the counter. She slid the strap down her arm to her hand before handing over the large dark brown leather handbag.

"Then take out what keeps setting it off," he chided her like a patient grandfather. He reached under the table for one of the large plastic tubs required to hold the contents of her bag. "Keys, pepper spray, bottle opener..." He named off all of the offending items after fishing them out to drop them in another container. He picked up the single serving bag of almonds coated with cocoa powder to give it a closer inspection. "Oh, these are new."

"You can have those. I have a whole box at home," she told him, holding open her purse for him to dump everything back inside from the plastic tray.

"Are you sure?" He assisted her with dropping the metal items back into her purse one at a time.

"I'm sure. It's no problem at all. Want me to make you and your wife one of my Hummingbird cakes? The grand kids are coming this weekend right?" She had gotten to know him pretty well due to her frequent visits to HQ to see Rester. They had discussed cakes one time while sifting through the dozens of items in her purse. He had mentioned his wife's favorite cake was an old-fashioned Hummingbird cake* so she had made one and brought it in the next time she came.

"Aw, you don't have to do that. Yeah, they will be here this weekend. All six of them," he laughed, the pride showing in his sparkling pale blue eyes.

Georgie smiled at him, slinging the bag over her shoulder and picking up the mountain of paperwork, her reason for being here. She would make the cake. It was time consuming and required a dozen or more ingredients, but she would do it for him. He was always so long-suffering and kind to her no matter how many times she set off the metal detector. Every time she heard him say six grandchildren, she attempted to wrap her mind around the concept of being the mother of six kids. She could barely imagine being the mother of one child. She wanted children, and she could hear her biological clock ticking loudly in her ears since her thirty first birthday was coming up in a few months. What kind of father would Near be? With that thought, she was sure her face would spontaneously combust because it felt so hot. It was a little soon to be thinking about such matters. After stepping off the elevator, she walked down the hall to the office that bore the name of Rester on a gold plate by the door. She waved her ID over the scanner and elbowed open the door after the lock clicked free.

"You can go on in. He's expecting you," Laura, Rester's Personal Assistant, said after giving her a welcoming smile.

"Thank you," she rejoined, smiling back at the tiny woman with short blond hair and dark brown eyes.

Out of habit, Georgie knocked on the glass door of his private office, although she could see that he was already waving for her to come inside. The glass panels of this office contained some freaky new kind of technology that enabled them to change from clear to frosted for total privacy with the push of a button located on the underside of his desk. She sat the files down in front of him in the one spot on his desk that was not covered with papers or folders. A groan rose in her throat as she watched him gather what appeared to be random files and pieces of paper to form a stack twice as tall as the one she had returned.

"I would expect Near to complain about the paperwork but not you," he remarked without looking up at her.

"But I'm the pack mule who carries it all back and forth. Haven't you people heard of e-mail and electronic file transfers? I'm sure you have an amazingly encrypted network. You're the FBI for god's sake," she whined dramatically for the express purpose of annoying him. When it did not have the desired effect on the extremely patient man, she used her normal voice to speak her next words. "Besides, you know Near never complains about anything to do with work."

Near preferred paper and ink, something he could get his hands on. Instantly her mind recalled how tactile he could be like on the day he had given her the impromptu breast exam. He was definitely a hands on kind of guy but had not been so with her since that day. She shook her head to bring her wayward thoughts back to the present.

"He only complains when you want him to go outside, right?" he returned with a smile. She had relayed some rather amusing stories of Near's reactions when she had pushed the young man out of his comfort zone like a mother bird kicks her baby bird out of a nest to make him fly. His hopes for her to make Near soar were coming along grandly. So far, Near was progressing better than he could have planned.

Near had taken a liking to her and trusted her. He had swiftly developed an attachment to her - just like the boy had with him. It seemed like once that trust was established that was all it took for the bond to be made.

"Can you come to the house Friday night for dinner? Near and I would like to invite you and Agents Gevanni and Lidner as well. I see Stephen at the pool all the time so if you don't mind passing on the invitation to Agent Lidner - "

"You see him all the time, huh? At the pool did you say? And on a first name basis with Agent Gevanni," he teased without letting on that he was doing so to fluster her. He knew that Stephen Gevanni lived in an apartment complex that shared a pool with Near's condominium. A smile pulled at the edges of his lips when she put a hand on her hip and sighed loudly with exasperation. Was she going to yell at him? It wouldn't be the first time.

"Now, Commander, you know darn and good well where he lives. Since it's summer time, naturally we both frequent the pool for exercise purposes. Don't be so damn silly," she admonished him like a mother scolding a child. "You're acting like a gossipy old woman."

Rester chuckled. Obviously she had learned a thing or two from Near about self-control and not raising her voice. She had changed too. "I wouldn't miss a dinner party hosted by the two of you for the world. I'll be there."

"Eight on the dot, sir." She struggled to balance the gargantuan stack of paperwork in her arms.

"Not a minute later."

~...~

Georgie took a deep breath as the garage door closed behind her to seal out the torrential downpour. The clouds had split open dumping their contents in a deluge of big fat drops just as she passed through the gates at the guard shack barring the entrance of the community. Never in her life had she been so thrilled to live in a place with an attached garage. She would continue to remain warm and dry despite the heavy rain outside. She went around to the passenger's side to lift the gigantic stack of paperwork out of the seat rather than trying to heft out across the steering wheel. The bag of take-out Chinese food had already been placed on her arm at the crook of her elbow. Fully loaded and toppling under the weight, she remembered too late that she would somehow have to open the door from the garage to the stairs.

"Need help?" Near asked, opening the door as if on cue.

"Oh, thank God," she sighed, gladly handing over the paperwork. It belonged to him anyway. "Could you hear me coming in Old Bessie?"

"That and Commander Rester had called to warn me you would need help," he admitted, standing to the side so she could go up the stairs first. "You really should get a new car."

"Yes, I really should," she agreed, jogging up the stairs ahead of him. "I'll get everything put out on plates while you take that up to your office."

"Don't bother. Just leave it in the containers. Bring it on up to my office," he requested. He had less than virtuous ulterior motives for allowing her to walk ahead of him. His eyes settled on her behind encased in faded denim. They followed the movement of her hips that swung like a pendulum from side to side as she elegantly ascended the steps. Taking time to study the beauty of the female form, her body in particular, had led to him having all sorts of new desires and feelings he had never experienced before.

"I invited Agent Rester for dinner Friday night like we discussed," she informed him, setting the bag of food down on the small round table beside his desk.

"That's good. Do you have any idea what you would like to cook? I'll help," he volunteered, sitting down in one of the chairs at the table that had been placed in here for times like this.

"I'm not sure," she replied, opening the mini-fridge in the corner to take out two cans of soda. The small refrigerator had been bought to avoid frequent trips to the kitchen by Near or his calling her to make the trips for him when he was in the middle of something and did not want to stop. She made sure to keep it stocked with drinks and snacks.

"What about the beef tips with gravy and mashed potatoes? I like that dish the best and I know I can be a big help making it," he said, taking the canned drink that she offered him.

"We'll go with that then." Georgie sat down in her chair across the table from him, taking the containers out of the bag to set them on the table. She handed him a set of chopsticks and removed her own from the paper sleeve to pull them apart with a satisfying crack. Opening the iconic red and white Chinese take out box containing the chicken, she lifted out a steaming chunk of fried chicken dripping with the sweet orange glaze. When the delectable bite was half way toward her mouth, she glanced toward Near. She extended her hand toward him, offering him the first bite. A smile touched her lips when he automatically took it as if it were the most natural thing to do. She obediently opened her mouth when he pushed a potsticker held between his chopsticks at her. They were her favorite too.

"It's good?" he asked, sticking one in his mouth without waiting for her answer.

Georgie nodded hoping he could not see her reddened cheeks in the dim light of the room.

Although it was barely after two in the afternoon, outside it was as dark as night from the storm. Lightning slashed the black clouds, lighting up the room in a blinding flash of blue. She gasped, hurriedly setting the container of food and her chopsticks down on the table. Flattening her palms over her ears, she pressed them firmly to her head to block out the sound of the thunder. A whimper escaped her lips despite biting her lower lip in an effort to contain it as the thunder crashed deafeningly. Once it was over and she had lowered her hands, she gave Near a sheepish grin of humiliation.

"Are you all right?" he inquired, standing up to walk toward her.

"I'm okay. It's embarrassing to admit," she began, nervously twisting a lock of her wavy hair around her forefinger. "I'm terrified of thunderstorms. Just like a child."

"It's all right," he assured her, taking her by the hand to pull her to her feet. "I still think you're the bravest person I know."

"I'm not brave," she scoffed avoiding looking into his eyes. "I'm a coward. I've been running from so many things that I fear I'm not sure I know how to stop."

"Will you run from me?" he whispered, tipping up her chin with his forefinger to look into her eyes.

Georgie held her breath when Near put his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. Her eyes skirted over his, unable to hold his emotion laden stare. Instead, her eyes settled on his lips that were slightly parted. She noted that he was breathing hard, the rising and falling of his chest moving the both of them as he held her. She raised her eyes back to his before answering his question. "I have absolutely no reason to run from you. With you, I feel safe for the first time in my life. I would only run to you."

"You terrify me," he confessed, stroking her chin with his finger.

"You're scared of me?" she laughed, unsure of what he meant.

"I'm scared of losing you. I don't want to be alone again. Not after being with you," he murmured, his eyes drifting from hers to focus on her lips.

Her eyelids lowered when his forefinger touched her bottom lip at the corner. A surge of electrical excitement flowed down her back and raced through her limbs as the silky tip of his finger traced her lower lip then the top one. Her own breathing became ragged when his lips pressed to her cheek. With each successive kiss he planted to her cheek, her forehead, her eyelids, it became more difficult for her to breathe.

"Please don't ever run from me. I'll never hurt you," he promised, placing a tender peck at the corner of her mouth.

"I know," she whispered back, turning her head to capture his lips. She touched the tip of her tongue to the middle of his bottom lip. Drawing her tongue back quickly, she waited for him to accept the invitation for more. Her fingers pressed into his upper arms that she was clutching when his tongue slid between her lips tentatively. Slowly, teasingly, his tongue glided across hers, and she moaned into his mouth. Her arms wound around his neck, pulling his mouth more firmly against hers as she reveled in the cautious exploration of his curious tongue.

"Mmmmm," he hummed deep in his throat. The vibrations reverberated through his chest and into her body making her moan again. "Now that's nice."

"Nice?"

"Nice." Before she could giggle, Near brought her lips back to his.

 _This is very nice,_ Georgie thought to herself as his tongue entered her mouth again, giving her tongue a provocative stroke before withdrawing. Her tongue pursued, sliding over his full bottom lip to find the tip of his tongue.

"We've still got food to eat," Near mumbled between pecks on his lips.

"Uh huh," she murmured, sliding her hands down his neck to his chest.

"I've got work to do," he said, not wanting this to stop but knowing it should.

"Yes, you do." Georgie took a deep breath, forcing herself to take her lips from his. She kissed his cheek and stepped back from him before turning toward the door. "I'll leave so you can work."

Georgie jumped and gasped in rapid succession in response to the latest burst of lightning and floor shaking peal of thunder.

"Hey, Georgie?"

"What, Near?"

"You don't have to leave. You can stay here with me if you would like."

"But you'll be working. I'll just in be in the way, an annoying distraction." She turned to go.

Near stared at the back of her head. Her chocolate colored hair hung in loose waves almost to her waist. He wanted to touch the silky strands, to feel them sliding between his fingers, but she was too far away to reach. She was right that she would be a distraction but wrong that she would be annoying. Having her close by brought him comfort.

"Are you sure you want me to stay in here while you're working?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

"I'm sure," he replied. He wanted her to stay with him - always.

* * *

Author's Note: Hummingbird Cake - No one is really sure how it got it's name, but it is an old-fashioned Southern dessert favorite. It's a dense, decadent cinnamon cake batter loaded with pineapple, bananas, and pecans and finished off with a cream cheese icing. I included this little factoid to assure people that no actual hummingbirds go into making this cake, and it is indeed a real thing. :)


	9. Chapter 9

"They're here!" Georgie yelled running down the stairs from the third floor at full throttle.

Near turned away from the stove where he was stirring the gravy in time to see her run across the second floor before disappearing down the stairs that led to the door in the garage where their dinner guests would be waiting.

"Stop running before you hurt yourself," he called after her though he doubted she would slow down. He heard two hard thumps against the door, guessing the first was the impact of her hands against the door and second her knees as the throw rug in the foyer carried through with her momentum and slid her into the door.

"I'm fine!" she hollered back up the stairs.

Near smiled. He had caught himself doing that more and more since she had come into his life. He could not understand why she was so nervous about dinner tonight. They were friends; people he had known for so long that they had become like family. Family. They had helped him understand what that word meant, and he would be forever grateful to them for it.

Then came Georgie. Reckless, energetic, often annoying Georgie. She made him feel something different, something he had never felt before. The warm feelings she stirred inside of him gave him a rapid heartbeat and a somersaulting stomach. Although the emotions she elicited were most often pleasant and enjoyable, he sometimes found them to be horribly disconcerting. Perhaps this disparity in the emotions that he experienced is what confused him the most. Were these bizarre, sometimes alarming, feelings what they called love? The sweating hands and runaway pulse along with the intense desire to be close to her, to touch her, to hold her, all seemed to be part of this irritatingly vague concept called 'being in love.'

Near could hear her chattering loudly and nonstop as she led their guests upstairs. He had noticed she had a tendency to speak louder than normal and be extremely animated when nervous. It hadn't been necessary for her to meet them at the door. They knew where to go. They even had keys and the pass code to get into his house yet she had felt the need to personally escort them upstairs to the dining room table. He had no idea why tonight was such a big deal to her.

The familiar faces of his family appeared at the top of the stairs. Agent Rester followed by Halle, then Stephen. But there was a fourth person at the end he didn't know. A woman, what most people would consider to be pretty with her flashing blue eyes and her black hair pulled back into a loose bun at the nape of her neck like Georgie's favorite way to style her hair. The woman was holding Stephen's hand in the same way Georgie would hold his hand when he felt anxious while she was leading him around the park or the grocery store or any of the dozen places she would drag him that he didn't want to be. He opened his palm, staring at it. He thought about the warmth and comfort, the closeness, such a small gesture brought to him.

"Georgie," he called to her as she ushered them into the room where the delivery men had set up the formal dining table that seated six.

The table had been delivered from the furniture store mere hours ago. Georgie had insisted they buy one since the kitchen table would not be big enough. She had also told him they would be having a dinner party at least once every month. For the life of him, he could not figure out why.

Georgie entered the kitchen, the ankle length teal blue skirt of her Grecian goddess style dress clutched in her hands. She did that a lot when she was nervous too. Her fingers would grip and fiddle with the material of the skirts she preferred to wear as if moving of their own volition.

"Near, come on," she said, taking him by the hand. "There's someone I want you to meet. She's a very special person to Stephen so be nice. Try not to say anything rude or too honest. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me later. But now can you - "

"You look beautiful," he interrupted her, stunning her into silence.

"Thank you," she replied, turning to him.

Near gazed at her face that instantly relaxed from the pinched look she had been wearing before. He studied her eyes while she straightened the unbuttoned collar of his indigo blue shirt. She favored buying him clothes in varying shades of blue saying that it brought out his eyes and hair. He had no clue what that meant. As long as she continued to pick out the loose comfortable styles he liked, he really didn't care what he was wearing. One of those strange, explicable compulsions came over him when his eyes moved over her face. Her lips looked so inviting he acquiesced to the desire to kiss them. His hands gripped her upper arms, holding her tightly so she would not pull away from him. Her lips were supple and compliant under his, accepting his kiss and returning it sweetly like always

"Near," she gasped, pulling her lips from his when he tried to deepen the kiss. "We can't do this right now."

"Later?" he ventured hopefully, releasing his hold on her bare arms. Her skin was soft to the touch like silk beneath his fingers.

"Later," she assured him, kissing his forehead as if he were an adorable child.

He hated it when she did that. It made him feel as if she were discounting him as a man. Before his offense could blossom into full anger, she took him by the hand to lead him into the room where their guests waited for them.

Everyone stood and greeted him politely when he walked into the room. Near supposed it was good etiquette because he was their host after all. However, he didn't give a damn about etiquette or proper ways of society. The unspoken rules of society had always been a source of bewilderment to him especially with their vagueness and pointlessness yet people insisted on clinging to the conventions of behavior.

"Near, I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Anita Barrett," Stephen proudly proclaimed to introduce the woman to the young man who was like his cherished little brother.

Near grunted when Georgie nudged him hard enough to push him forward. He quickly tried to remember what it was she had told him to do in situations like this. Extending his hand to the woman, he plastered a smile on his face.

"It's nice to meet you," he told her hearing the insecurity in his own breathy voice. He was doing this for Georgie, to please her, certainly not because he wanted to do it.

There was a collective gasp from the other three people in the room as Near shook hands with Anita.

"Ow," Anthony Rester hissed after Georgie's leg shot out in his direction.

Near smiled sincerely this time. He knew she had kicked the Commander in the ankle for reacting in such a way. If they had been within reach, she would have kicked Halle and Stephen too. As much as she aggravated him for pushing him into uncomfortable situations, she was always there to protect him and be his biggest cheerleader. For all of her hardheadedness and aggressiveness, she seemed to understand how difficult these things were for him.

"Anthony, will you open the wine while we go get the food?" Georgie inquired, leading Near back out of the room before the Commander protested at her using his first name.

When they were in the kitchen, she pulled him into her arms, giving him an embrace so tight that it flattened her breasts against his chest where his heart was daring to break through his rib cage.

"Oh, Near, I'm so proud of you," she gushed, kissing both of his cheeks and then his lips.

"You said we have to wait until later for this," he reminded her as she continued to hold him tightly. Not that he minded or wanted her to let him go because there were other things he'd rather be doing than entertaining guests. _Later,_ he thought to himself, squeezing her then letting her go.

"You're right," she agreed, stepping around him to get to the stove. She transferred the food to the serving dishes so they could carry it into the dining room. "Let's go."

Near followed her back to the room trying not to roll his eyes. Just a few hours and it would be just the two of them again. Although he didn't mind being around people he knew, he preferred being alone or with no more than one person at a time no matter how well he knew them. Setting down the bowls on the table, he took his place at the head which made him feel apprehensive. This morning when they were going over the seating arrangement, she had explained why it was important for him to sit there. He had requested that she sit at the place of honor since she had organized this little soiree, but she had refused saying that he was the man of the house so he belonged there.

Being in the forefront had never been somewhere he wanted to be. Near had always worked behind the scenes, choosing to stay hidden, acting like a part of the background though he had actually been on center stage the whole time being the lead investigator in charge of a team. She was making him become more and more aware of his place in life, forcing him to take a more active role in his own existence. Sometimes he hated her for it. One of those times was now.

"Near?" she called his name, halting his steady flow of random thoughts. She smiled at him when he blinked in puzzlement. It became apparent to her that he had been off somewhere in his own personal world where only he was allowed. She could pick up on his little fugues easily, always saving him from embarrassment from not having been paying attention to a damn thing because he had been thinking to hard. After giving him a reassuring smile, she asked, "Can you pass the mashed potatoes?"

"Of course," he replied, picking up the bowl to hand it to her.

Since he had not dipped a single spoonful of food out onto his plate, she served him the potatoes first before serving herself and passing them on. Sometimes she was like a doting mother. Other times she was like the seductive lover he had yet to understand or experience. She angered him like noe one ever had. She frightened him too but would be loathe to admit it. This fantastic wild woman stirred emotions and physical sensations inside of him he never knew existed.

During dinner, Near stayed quiet listening to the conversations going on around him. The discussed movies they had seen or books they had read. Other times one person talked specifically to another person when asking a question. They talked about their personal interests such as Rester's hobby of ham radio, or amateur radio, where he searched and picked up radio frequencies used by private individuals. This personal pastime had come in handy when they had tracked a gang of criminals who had decided to go low tech to send messages back and forth among their organizations numerous members. Halle had just taken up the almost forgotten art of knitting to make hats, scarves, and gloves for her nieces. Stephen and Anita discussed their recent white water rapids excursion. Throughout dinner, Near kept a close eye on Georgie who listened to everyone without contributing anything to the conversation other than nods or occasional exclamations of 'really' or 'no way.' She had never really mentioned much of her life before to him. He had never asked either. It had simply not occurred to him to inquire about her past because it did not matter. Selfishly, all he cared about was his present with her.

Stephen picked up his wine glass, tapping on the side of it with his fork to draw everyone's attention to him. He stood to his feet, glancing in turn at all of the people surrounding him.

"I have announcement to make. The lovely Anita here is not only my girlfriend, but I have asked her to be my wife. She has graciously agreed to take me as her husband." He turned to speak directly to the love of his life. "I love you, sweetheart," he said, bending down to kiss her.

Everyone around the table except for Near applauded. He was busy mulling over the concept of marriage in his mind. Hugs and handshakes were lavished on the happy couple along with hearty wishes of congratulations combined with wishes of a long life together. Georgie brought out the cake and coffee to celebrate the announcement. Their guests stayed for quite a while, chatting and laughing until nearly midnight. By the time they bid them good night, Near barely waited for the door to close behind them before he started asking questions.

"Georgie, what are we to each other?" Near asked her, following her up the stairs.

"We're boss and employee of course," she replied, turning into the kitchen. Mountains of dishes sat on both sides of the sink making her groan.

"Is that all?" he inquired, standing beside her at the sink.

"I'll wash. You rinse," she told him, flipping on the faucet.

Near stayed quiet, waiting for her to answer while he watched mounds of white suds build in the sink. He thought she was ignoring his quesion, brushing him off, until she inhaled noisily.

"I don't know, Near. I was meant to be your assistant. Nothing more," she told him, a distinct sad tone to her voice.

"Would it be bad if you became something more?" His eyes followed the slow circles she made around the plate with the sponge.

"I suppose that would be your call in the end. Do you want something more?"

"Yes," he answered in his typical blunt fashion. He reached out to grab the plate that slipped from her hands. His frankness still had a tendency to catch her off guard.

It never occurred to him that she might not feel the same way, that this was only a job to her. But the way she looked at him sometimes made him think something different. Not one to ever trust anything but indisputable facts and cold logic, he was not sure though because emotions were much more difficult to determine. Feelings were too fickle, too unreliable, changing with mood and circumstances. However, many of his similar feelings for her had converged to become a singular emotion.

"I love you."

"Near," she gasped. This time he was not fast enough to catch the dish which crashed to the floor to shatter into a hundred tiny shards. Dropping to her knees, she swore fiercely.

He noticed her hands were shaking while she picked up the bigger pieces of the dish. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and the tip of her nose began to turn red. He had made her cry.

"Georgie, did I say something wrong? I'm sorry," he apologized, assisting her with standing to her feet.

"There's no need to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong," she assured him, tossing the pieces of the broken plate in to the trash.

"I'll go get the broom and dust pan," he told her going to the kitchen cupboard to retrieve them. He swept up the mess while she continued to wash dishes. Occasionally he would hear her sniffle which would cause a stab of pain in his chest that almost took his breath away. What had he done? Why wouldn't she say anything to him? Once the broken dish was cleaned up, he returned to helping her with the dirty dishes, this time keeping his mouth shut.

"Are you angry with me?" Near asked her when they were done cleaning the kitchen and dining room.

"No, definitely not," she answered, cupping his cheek as she looked at him with her always kind brown eyes. "You just caught me off guard."

"How do you feel about me?"

Georgie bit her lower lip, her eyes holding his. She leaned forward, kissing his lips briefly.

"I do love you, Near," she confessed, giving him a wavering smile.

She looked terrified because of the way she felt which was not so different from him. Her emotions always showed so clearly on her face yet he was too afraid to believe her openness. She was different than most people. Her emotional honesty was one of the things he liked about her.

"But?" he pressed her.

"But I'm just not sure of things. I will admit I can be very flaky. I have bad habit of cutting and running when things get a little bit too serious, especially where emotions are concerned," she admitted, taking his hands in hers.

"Please, stay with me. Don't leave me just because I want to be close to you. To love you." He could not help but notice how saying the word love made her visibly cringe. "Is it really that bad? Does the word love hurt that much?"

"Not when you say it. But will you be angry with me if I can't say it back so easily? I just..." She faltered, lowering her eyes from his earnet gaze. "I just can't. Not yet."

"It's okay. You don't have to say it. You should know it won't stop me from feeling it either," he warned her.

"All right. If you insist," she laughed lightly, amused by his determination.

"Georgie, will you stay with me tonight?"

"Near, I stay with you every night."

"No, I mean stay with me...in my bed."

Georgie stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," he returned, rubbing her arms.

"I'll go get a shower and meet you there. I'm really tired." She yawned as if to prove her statement.

Near watched her walk up the stairs, waiting for her to disappear before going to his room to shower. He dressed in a sky blue pair of silk pajamas before getting into the bed. Staring at the ceiling above him in the dim blue light emitted by the computer on his desk, he waited. His eyes started to grow heavy, blinking slower and slower until they finally did not reopen. He was more tired than he thought.

The door to his room opened when he was about to drift off to sleep. Near remained still, pretending to be asleep when she slipped into the bed beside him. Her body was still warm and slightly damp from her hot shower. He knew she loved extra hot showers nearly boiling herself. Her lightly tanned skin would always be red from her head to her toes with steam wafting away from her body to join the clouds of white that filled the bathroom. She would kill him if she knew he had watched her shower on occasion. He couldn't help it. Curiosity had overwhelmed him after walking in on her that one time. Reluctant to face physical repercussions or further humiliation, he was too shy to barge in on her again after what happened the first time.

"Near, are you asleep?" she asked, pressing her body to his back.

"Yes," he answered gruffly. He smiled upon hearing her melodious giggle. A sigh almost passed his lips when she draped her arm over his waist, fitting her body to his in a spooning position. He had never felt the closeness of another human before. He had never known he wanted to. Then she came along and changed everything for him.

"Good night. Sleep tight," she whispered, pressing her face into the hair that covered the back of his neck.

"Good night, Georgie," he returned. Near covered her hand with his, holding it lightly. Soon after, he fell asleep, content and secure in her arms.


End file.
